Six Months
by Snarkland78
Summary: If House only had six months to live, how would he spend it? Would his life be any different?
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

KNOCK KNOCK. "Come in."

A pretty administrative assistant opened the office door and, with a smile, handed a manilla envelope to the young man sitting behind the huge oak desk. At the top was the name "Charlie Dryer" and "CONFIDENTIAL" in big, bold red letters underneath the name. The man, an Oncologist to be exact, threw the young woman a flirty smile who, in turn, reddened with embarrassment and stumbled out, leaving the handsome Oncologist to shake his head in amusement.

But that smile, and that face, and that attitude, were, in reality just a series of very well-rehearsed, excessively-utilized masks for his true feelings.

The moment he read the name on the envelope, Dr. James Wilson's stomach churned with foreboding. He knew that foreboding feeling...and it was never good.

Instead of immediately opening it he dropped it in front of him and leaned back in the leather office chair, its springs groaning in protest. A thousand thoughts ran through that handsome head of his...but only one penetrated through the fog of emotions and noise of thoughts:

_What to do now?_

_How will you know unless you open the envelope?_ his voice of reason asked. He nodded to himself and took a deep breath then leaned forward, grasped the envelope and ripped it open, giving no thought to proper envelope-opening decorum. He pulled out lab results...

and he was right.

It wasn't pretty...just like he knew they wouldn't be. It never was but, then, that's the way it was as the Head of the Department of Oncology.

A stomach tumor.

Metastasized.

The patient was terminal...six months, tops.

The paper shook in his right hand from the spasms of nerves that seemed to uncontrollably seize his body. _"Oh, no,"_ he moaned, rubbing his eyes with his left as he attempted to keep the moisture at bay.

Dr. James Wilson had seen hundreds of cases like this one...but never had one affected him like this. Why?

Because "Charlie Dryer" wasn't Charlie Dryer.

"Charlie Dryer" was really his best friend, Dr. Gregory House.

House wanted to keep the testing a secret. Wilson, the only human House had one iota of trust for, said he'd run the tests under a false name.

And Dr. James Wilson held the fate of Dr. Gregory House in his hands...

Dr. Gregory House was dying. All he had was...

six months.

*****


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1:**

_Do I really need to tell him this? I can't keep it a secret..._ Wilson waged a war within himself: tell him, don't tell him. _I've got to do it. He's got to know...but he acted like he already knew the answer._ Wilson was so engrossed in his musings he failed to hear the STEP-STEP-THUMP...the tell-tale sound of the object of his musings...walk into his office.

THWACK! A cane landed hard and fast on the lab results, effectively pinning them to the desk and startling the wits out of Wilson. "Mmm..." Dr. Gregory House murmured as he looked at the results then at his friend. Noticing the tears in Wilson's eyes House had a feeling they were about him.

Instead of addressing the issue like a normal, well-adjusted person would, House took his usual route: avoidance. "You need to stop reading those gossip rags. They are depressing...I read that one" pointing to the lab results "last week." Still eyeing the results, House took a seat in a leather armchair across the desk from his best friend. "That says Dr. Ruth is having Dr. Phil's love child, right?" House shook his head. "That's impossible...she's pregnant with Larry Flynt's child. Can't they get their stories straight?"

Despite the gravity of the news in his hands, Wilson smiled slightly. He then rubbed his eyes and passed House the "gossip rag". "Here...read for yourself."

House's eyes went to Wilson's and never left as he slowly held the paper to his eyes. Finally breaking away House read the contents. For ten minutes the paper stayed in his hand, never once shaking which surprised Wilson. Finally lowering the life-altering sheet from his eyes House stood up, crossed the room then stopped. Still holding the sheet in his left hand he thumped his cane with his right hand; a few seconds later he lifted his head, looked at Wilson with moisture-hazed sky-blue eyes and said,

"She should've stayed with Larry Flynt. He's more interesting than Dr. Phil."

He gave Wilson a slight, very weary smile which said, "Ok. I get it...six months." House turned back to the open door and walked out.

Wilson stared after him. He listened to the fading STEP-STEP-THUMP as House went further down the hall then Wilson coverd his face with his hands...and bawled.  
*****


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_I've got to tell Cuddy._ James wiped his eyes and leaned back in his chair, springs creaking as he began counting ceiling tiles. _WHAT?!?!?!?_ _I'll get reamed. Of course I can't tell Cuddy._

_But you know House will never tell her. She's got to know._

_Doctor-Patient confidentiality says I can't._

A THUMP THUMP interrupted his musings. _Good grief, what is this, Grand Central Station?_ He wearily thought as he stopped counting at 59 and looked across the room to his visitor. Take that back. Visitors.

Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Being dragged in by...HOUSE?!?! _What's HE doing back?_

She didn't seem too thrilled as she glanced from House to Wilson. "What have you two got cooked up now?" She crossed her arms as she shot daggers at both men. "It's not every day House drags me out of my office for something. This better be good."

House smirked. "Of course it's good. Jimmy's having trouble picking out wallpaper patterns. I'm thinking polka dots but he wants rosebuds. Please talk him out of it..." he whined, contradicting the smirk he still wore. The whole scene was very convincing...but Wilson saw the hazy sadness in his friend's clear blue eyes. He knew House was being House, dealing with the news his own way.

Cuddy's eyebrow rose at her obvious disbelief.

"Oh, fine. Don't believe me." House sniffed and lifted his head in mock indignation. Rolling his eyes he handed the test results, which he still clutched in his left hand, to his female boss. "I do have a juicy piece of gossip. You might like this."

Wilson's mouth fell open. He couldn't believe House was telling Cuddy. That was so completely UNLIKE the arrogant, angry, misanthropic doctor. _Was House making an effort to be human? Or did he figure, since he had six months, he could act out of character? _Wilson was baffled.

With her eyebrow still raised, Cuddy looked from one boy to the other before reading the paper. After a moment she looked up, confusion and a twinge of anger filling her eyes. "You drug me all the way up here to show me the PRIVATE lab results for a patient with terminal stomach cancer? Is this some sort of joke? This man will probably die in six months and you want to gossip about it? How heartless are you two?"

House gave Cuddy a slight head shake then turned and walked out the door. Cuddy, still upset, turned to her Chief Oncologist who simply sighed and stood up. "Lisa," Cuddy started at his use of her first name. Wilson walked around the large desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is someone very close to him. He's taking the news pretty good...considering..." Wilson's voice trailed off.

"Considering what? What relationship does House have with" she looked down at the paper once more. "Charlie Dryer? I thought you were his only friend." Wilson was quiet and Cuddy jumped back in. "Oh, let me guess: he's a poker buddy? Pen pal? Fellow Hell's Angel?"

Despite the gravity of the situation Wilson had to smile at the Hell's Angel reference. "No Lisa." He took her hand and led her to the leather armchairs in front of the desk. "About three days ago, um, Charlie came to me complaining of black, tar-like bowels. He thought it was iron-deficiency anaemia. These are the results of the tests we ran. Charlie said the "anaemia' was sudden onset. Normally stomach cancer doesn't progress this fast but..." Wilson decided to tread lightly here, watching Cuddy's face as he was about to drop the bombshell..."...the Vicodin Charlie pops aggravated the ailment and sped the progress of the disease. You're right...Charlie's only got six months."

Wilson saw Cuddy's face change from one of anger and impatience to concentration and finally to understanding at the word VICODIN. "Oh my..." but she couldn't finish her exclamation as her face crumbled the moment she put two and two together. _It makes sense,_ she silently reasoned as the tears formed. _The sadness I saw just now. He hadn't been himself these past few days._

And she finally knew why.

Her employee, her friend (if you could call him that), her secret desire (she couldn't deny the torch, though non-reciprocated, she had for him)...only had six months. She turned tear-filled eyes to Wilson who wrapped her in his arms. For the first time in years Dr. Lisa Cuddy cried until nothing remained.  
*****


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_**STEP-STEP-THUMP. STEP-STEP-THUMP.**_

_The cadence of a man who knew he was hated but never seemed to care._

_**SNARK. SNARK.**_

_The description of this man's language, so far removed from __proper__ English it was foreign to the rest of the world._

_**GA-GUNG. GA-GUNG.**_

_Heartbeat...the feeling, the rhythm a lover's world adopts the moment they see their beloved. An experience he once shared...but would never again._

For some ludicrous reason these revelations, usually so foreign, ran through the brain of Dr. Gregory House as he walked away from his pal Jimmy's big bad Oncology office.

Why ludicrous? Because Dr. Gregory House was anything but analytical about his life...he usually took the "hard, fast and damn the consequences" approach. This never stopped him from analyzing everyone else though.

Things were different now. Life just threw him a curveball...one he was, yet wasn't, prepared for.

He'd known, from that first drop of blood, his life was changing...but he did what he'd done so many times with everything possibly wrong in his life: ignored it.

Three days later he knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. The pain was too great. And to say this was extremely profound, given the man was a pain addict.

His brain was a clutter as he limped to the elevator. The roof: he needed to think. He always did his most important thinking there.

An hour later he was no closer to any sort of solution, any sort of answer. Despite the sheer magnitude of realities, regrets, lost dreams and arguments that swirled, thickened the air around him the one thought he always went back to was...

_Six months...what will I do?_

As he leaned against the stone ledge of the roof the now-all-too-familiar pain ripped through his stomach...

yet another reminder (though did he really need one?) that he only had...

six months.  
*****


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Unbeknownst to the three current players of this drama an unknown figure stood in the shadows outside the door of Wilson's office.

This person, well know to each player, came looking for the Boy Wonder Oncologist, seeking information on a referral. They had decided to sit on a nearby bench and go over all the information in the referral file before speaking with the Oncologist.

Satisfied with their knowledge of the patient they stood up and, as they approached the office, heard deep, anguished weeping. Now, this person knew Dr. James Wilson enough to know he had been doing his job long enough to deal with losing a patient. They also knew Wilson didn't have a current patient he'd taken a particular interest in.

Rumor mills were a fount of useful, and not-quite-so-useful, information.

In this case, it would seem, the information was useful.

Just as this person was about to leave they heard the STEP-STEP-THUMP of House...and decided to eavesdrop...

and as the conversation began the silent snooper became very confused...

_What was in the envelope?_

_Dr. Ruth...and Dr. Phil...and Larry Flynt??!!! What was going on?_

_Six months...what does he get about six months?_

_Why was House leaving the office...and are those tears I see in his eyes?_

After House left this person stood frozen with amazement as they attempted to soak everything in. Obviously whatever this was wasn't good for House...but how? And what could it be? Just as the stealthy spy emerged from the sanctuary of the shadows they heard the distinctive CLIP CLOP of Army Sergeant Cuddy's shoes as she was being dragged by a very determined House to Oncology. They barely had enough time to scramble back to their hiding place.

_'Oh this is really bad,'_ they thought, watching House and Cuddy step inside and House emerging a few minutes later, deep in thought as he headed to the elevator. The person heard snippets of the next conversation:

_"Charlie Dryer? I thought you were his only friend."_

_"Charlie came to me complaining of black, tar-like bowels."_

_"These are the results of the tests we ran."_

_"Normally stomach cancer doesn't progress this fast but...the Vicodin Charlie pops aggravated the ailment and sped the progress of the disease."_

_"Charlie's only got six months."_

_"Oh my..."_

And the crying...this unknown lurker never thought Cuddy capable of tears.

The person finally knew exactly what was happening: House had stomach cancer...and he only had...

six months.

Amazing how quickly things change: bad news usually transpires much quicker than good news, doesn't it?

Cuddy crying; Wilson crying; House dying.

Six months...these words echoed silently through the equally-silent halls of the Oncology wing, almost in a swirling pattern, exactly like the peaceful tranquility before a severe summer storm.

The veiled witness staggered quietly from their location. Quickly they peeked into Wilson's office and the sight of Wilson and Cuddy comforting one another through their tears was enough to send this person away...

Crying salty tears...and not having the faintest idea what to do next.  
*****


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The spy knew they couldn't tell a living soul and they certainly couldn't tell House. It would only make a bad situation disastrous. They would just have to keep their mouth shut...and no one would know, no one NEEDED to know...

at least for the time being.

Over the next several weeks, as the staff of PPTH went about their jobs, one of their own was dying. Most had remained blissfully ignorant of the drama unfolding around the hospital ogre.

Because he continued doing what he did only second best to medicine: hiding.

He was able to hide the frequent and bloody vomiting; the extreme fatigue; even the weight loss, though that one was getting harder everyday.

After all, nobody knew about his addictions. Vicodin, yes...but not the morphine...or the sleeping pills. Pills that helped him drift into slumber despite the tortured, agonizing, racking pain, both emotionally and physically, that swept over him like waves on a seashore. They helped him forget the life he'd chosen...

the life of pain.

He sought refuge in drugs versus people. People had always let him down. Drugs never did. And he certainly couldn't ask for help because Dr. Gregory House NEVER asked for help. It was as simple as that.

And it was only by eavesdropping that the spy knew what was transpiring; otherwise they'd be as blissfully ignorant as the rest of the hospital. That's how good Dr. Gregory House was at wearing his mask.

Needless to say, since House never spoke seriously on anything about himself, his daily visits with his best-friend-turned-personal-doctor, which had begun the day after the diagnosis, had proven to be rather...interesting.

Case in point: the said day after diagnosis, Wilson stopped by House's office for an appointment.

_"But Jimmy it's time for the Fourth Annual Hospital Foosball tournament. I've got money on the game and I have to be there." Wilson's eyebrow tilted up but he didn't back down._

_"House, I happen to know the foosball tournament's been postponed. Janelle, the reigning champion, is on maternity leave and the tournament will start when she returns."_

_House eyed him with that "oh really?" look of his, silently contemplating Wilson. "Oh really? You heard that one too? While you were at it, did you hear the one about you and Cuddy in a drawer in the morgue?"_

_Wilson shot him a confused look. "What are you talking about?" House threw him an "Oopsies. I wasn't supposed to say that." look. "House, you can make this easy or difficult. You can die very painfully or with relative ease. It's your choice."_

_House's face never changed expression. "What's the point of choosing? I'll be dead either way."_

_Wilson sighed and face palmed, not believing what he was hearing. His friend didn't care, one way or the other, how he died._

_Or maybe he did._

_"You really should let me help you. If you don't Cameron will get all weepy and cuddly with you." His voice raised several octaves in sarcastic cooing and he began making cutesy little hand gestures to indicate how girly Cameron would get. "She'll want to make you chicken soup and tuck you in bed...then she'll jump your bones. You know how she LOOOOVES you dying types." House snarkily smiled at his friend as he visualized Wilson's words and the possible actions of his lone female duckling. "Do you REALLY want her following you around like a little lost puppy, shedding alligator tears for her dying love?"_

_House's lip quirked up. "Might be fun." He continued eyeing his friend. "On second thought, I don't want to slip on said alligator tears and break my neck just as I'm dying of cancer. Hardly seems fair, does it? If you're gonna go one illness at a time. Besides, I don't think you have enough to do and it's just not right, you chasing nurses while your patients are dying. Oh what the hey. Let's give treatment a whirl. What have I got to lose?"_

So, for now, at least...House was cooperating and seeing his doctor.  
*****


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

During those first weeks House refused chemo. He didn't want to lose his hair; he didn't want the whole ugly ordeal; and he, most certainly, didn't want people to know about his illness.

Not just yet.

So, in a move out of character for House, he chose alternative therapies. They did help: they alleviated some of the pain; gave him more energy; gave him some hope...a concept completely foreign to him. He didn't understand hope; he only understood cold hard facts.

The therapies alleviated just enough pain, gave him just enough hope he did something he'd never done before...

he asked for vacation time. Why did he ask? Perhaps to test the waters, see if he got preferential treatment (which he didn't want). At any rate, he did ask...

and it went a little something like this:

House barged into Cuddy's office, smiling as he eyed the stocking-free legs crossed on her desk, happy he'd interrupted what seemed to be a very important phone call. She looked up and, rolling her eyes, shifted her legs to the floor as modestly as her skin-tight mini would allow.

"Hooker day at PPTH? Was this a memo I missed?" Cuddy wrinkled her nose at him and turned to the receiver in her hand.

"Sam, I gotta go. The Joker's just walked in my office." THUNK. Standing up Cuddy studied her employee. "What do you want?"

"See, here's the thing: I lost a bet." He walked closer to the desk and gave Cuddy a perfectly nonchalant look. "The terms are I have sex with both you and Cameron and tell everyone who was better." He threw her a truly painful expression and sighed at the injustice of the whole ordeal. "I just finished with Cameron and now it's your turn. Well, let's just get this over with: right here, on the desk?" He turned and pointed to the sofa against one wall. "Or does that sofa pull out?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him.

"It doesn't? That's too bad." He plastered a thoughtful look on his face and rubbed his scruffy chin with thoughtfulness. "Mmmm...I had the same problem with Cameron but she's...very limber so it wasn't all that bad." He eyed Cuddy up and down. "You've probably had more practice than Cameron so this shouldn't be so hard." He made a "well, come on, let's get this over with" gesture. "How about it sweet cheeks?"

Cuddy sighed and spoke very slowly. "WHAT...DO...YOU...WANT?"

"Two weeks vacation." Cuddy jumped back, as if she were slapped. House...vacation? Eyeing him she noted the fatigue but he looked like he could hold his own. And his blue eyes were sparkling with snark and a bit of seriousness.

What really got her was he was ASKING her for the vacation time. _'House NEVER ASKS for vacation time. He just does what he wants.'_

She'd already figured the illness probably wouldn't change him so, since he never asked before, why was he now?

"Ok."

It was House's turn to jump back, completely surprised she didn't put up her usual fight. "Ok?"

"Ok. What are you going to do?"

Still a bit out of sorts by her response he had to think fast..."Um, I was thinking of planning a hostile takeover of the hospital, complete with smoke bombs and rubber guns. I think it's time we protest the mystery meat in the cafeteria."

Once again Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Enjoy your time off."

House just stared at her and, when he saw the conversation was over, tilted his head with a look of confusion and walked out.

_'Why was that too easy?'_ he thought as he limped to the elevator. As he got on the empty car and turned around, his face fell.

He knew the answer...

_'Because I only have six months.'__  
__*****_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

That evening, upon arriving home, he threw his belongings down and flopped into the leather sofa.

Starting the next week he had two weeks of freedom and he hadn't a clue of what to do. Sleep? Watch _The New Yankee Workshop?_ Play his piano?

None of those seemed...quite...enough anymore. He needed something...more...something worthwhile perhaps?

As he was deep in thought he looked down at the coffee table, surprised to not find the remote control. _Where could that have gotten?_ He began rifling through the bin beside the table which was chock full of magazines and papers (his idea of cleaning was to throw everything in the nearby bin, basket or box, happy it was off the floor, not caring what went in it). Just as he located the remote sandwiched between "Road and Track" and "The New England Journal of Medicine" he spotted a brochure: "Motorcycling Cross-Country". Intrigued he opened the brochure, momentarily forgetting the wayward remote.

"I'd forgotten about this," he muttered as he studied his contents. He suddenly knew how he'd spend his vacation. Locating the website on the back of the brochure he went online and, using the map generator feature, plotted a course from his apartment in Princeton, New Jersey; through the Appalachian Mountain Range; the Deep South; straight through the Heart of Texas; up through Colorado; across the Dakotas; through Missouri and back to Princeton through Amish Country. Total mileage: around 6400 miles or 2 weeks, give or take a couple days.

The more he plotted the more excited he became...the more excited the more he smiled...and the more his face hurt, probably from lack of use.

He knew this was his one change. The excitement he currently felt was the most he'd had in many, many years.

He'd always wanted to bike cross country; he just never took the time.

Now? Well, it was literally now or never.

Because he only had...

six months.  
*****


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

The next morning Wilson arrived at PPTH at his usual time, 9:00 a.m. He scanned the lobby, hoping to see his "flavor of the month"...Nurse Wendy from Neonatal. Spotting her chatting it up with a candy striper, he strolled her way. Nurse Wendy looked up, smiled stupidly at the broad-shouldered Oncologist and excused herself from the candy striper.

"Good morning Dr. Wilson."

"Good morning Nurse Armstrong." Flashing his notorious dimples, that nurse just melted into a puddle on the ground. So oblivious they were to the world they failed to observe House's three ducklings (or fellowship doctors...they really aren't ducks.), standing just inside the clinic. They proceeded to roll their eyes and make gagging motions with their index fingers in their mouths.

"How DOES he do that?!?!" Chase, the handsome (though some would call him pretty) Australian Intensivist asked with disgust.

"What's up with House? He's looking pretty bad these days." Cameron, the lone female duckling, asked in an attempt to change the subject. After all, she really wasn't thrilled to watch Wilson gloat while his ego was being stroked by the obviously stupid nurse. The two male ducklings shrugged, neither thinking about anything except how "The Love Doctor" successfully bags another nurse.

Foreman, the remaining duckling and Neurologist, said, "Whatever it is hasn't effected his mood. He's as mean as ever." Cameron thought about his words as they watched doctor and nurse head to the elevator, the doctor's hand conveniently on the nurse's elbow.

"So, I wonder what Dr. House is going to do for two weeks." Nurse Wendy commented as they stepped on the elevator.

Wilson turned to her, huge chocolate eyes full of complete confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear? Dr. House took two weeks vacation, probably to get his red horns, tail and cloven hoof polished." She commented bitterly.

But Wilson didn't hear that last comment, he was too distracted. "Two weeks? Really? Where'd you hear that?"

Nurse Wendy looked at the elevator buttons and tapped her chin in deep thought. "Well, let's see:" then pointed in the air as if pointing to the people in question. "Janice in Accounting told me but she heard it from Alice in Human Resources who heard it from Roxanne at the lobby desk. Roxanne overheard Dr. House talking with Dr. Cuddy."

DING! The elevator arrived at Wilson's floor. Distracted he said goodbye to Nurse Wendy then headed straight for his snarky neighbor and was surprised to see House in the office that early, bouncing his oversized tennis ball against the wall. House turned at the sound of the door opening.

"You took two weeks vacation?!?!!"

House scrunched his forehead and eyebrows. "I already asked Mommy if it was ok. Do I really have to ask Daddy too?"

"So it's true??" House didn't say anything, just watched him in bewilderment.

"And what if it is?" His brow wrinkled even further and he pointed his cane at Wilson. "And how do you even know about it?"

Wilson froze. "I, um, have my sources."

House rolled his eyes. "Who? Nurse Kiki in Brain Surgery?" House asked sarcastically.

"It doesn't matter who I heard it from. When were you going to tell me?"

"When I call you from "The World's Largest Guitar" in Bristol, Tennessee. I hear that plays one mean Johnny Cash song." House snarked as he threw the ball against the wall once again.

"What??"

Once again House rolled his eyes then threw the ball at Wilson's head. "I just told you."

"A road trip??"

"Brilliant Sherlock. Now that you've won, would you like to see what's behind door number 1, 2 or 3??" But Wilson couldn't answer. He was too blown away by House actually going on a VACATION vacation. _But a road trip?_ he thought.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Wilson asked, carefully studying his friend. Said friend's face fell and he sighed. Face-palming he took his chair behind the desk.

"I have to be."

And he was absolutely right.

After all, he only had...

six months.  
*****


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

As the week progressed Wilson rarely had time to nag House about his trip. The team was busy with a puzzling case and were running all over the hospital, running test after test.

Of course, since House didn't tell the team he was going on vacation, they, as well, heard it through the grapevine. And House knew almost the PRECISE moment they'd heard...

He was sitting at his desk, bouncing his blue rubber ball against the floor and wall, when his office door burst open and the ducklings came quacking in.

"What's this about you going on vacation? You NEVER go on vacation...why now?" the lone chick among the ducks asked as she stomped over to the desk, planting hands on hips and a look of indignation mixed with interrogation on her beautiful face. This caused House to jump back involuntarily.

"Wow. You really ARE ugly when you're mad...or when you're ovulating. You look like you're both but I'm gonna go with ovulating." He opened his desk drawer and grabbbed a Hershey's bar, tossing it her way. "Do us all a favor and eat this." Her look deepened as the chocolate bar bounced off her head and hit the floor with a THUD. This only made the situation worse by causing the male duckies to chuckle. House made a "YIKES" look and went back to bouncing his ball, intentionally NOT answering her question.

"Why do you need a vacation? And what are you doing for two weeks?" Foreman asked as he took a seat in front of the desk, attempting a serious expression but he was unsuccessfully trying to muffle his giggles.

Chase sat beside Foreman and also attempted to look serious but it was awfully hard since he felt the same way as House did about Cameron. "Two week hooker party? Poker tour?"

House's look of shock was terribly overdramatic and, well, just plain cheesy. "Why Chase! I can't believe you'd say that about me. Well, if you MUST know, I'm opening a puppy orphanage in Thailand. Did you know they actually EAT those pwoor wittle gwuys there?" He made a sad, pathetic face and shook his head in mock indignation. "That's just a crying shame. Someone's gotta save them...and that someone is ME." And he continued throwing the ball, never missing a beat. This, of course, only intensified the coughing of the male duckies' suppressed laughter and the scowl of the female. House finally looked at the kids and rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. You wrestled it out of me. I'm going on a road trip: going to see the sights of the nation...taste the nectar of the great outdoors...check out the local flavor."

"By local flavor do you mean food or women?" Foreman asked with a twinkle in his eyes. House smiled mischievously and wiggled his eyebrows.

Cameron groaned. "Oh do I REALLY need to hear this?"

"Jealous?" House leaned across the desk and eyed her. "You still want me, don't you? Can't bear to share this gorgeous piece of male flesh with anyone else, much less a perfect stranger? I'll have you know that last night..." The duckies' groans stopped him from going any further and he chuckled. Eyeing all three he continued. "Worried about Daddy being away from home? Jimmy's getting $5/hour to baby-sit you three. Isn't that wonderful? Now he can support his ex-wives." He leaned away, picked the ball back up off the desk and went back to the ball-bouncing, which officially signaled the end of the conversation. The duckies, taking the cue, sighed and left the office.

Finally, after a daunting week, it was Friday afternoon and House was in his office, packing up his backpack, lost in thought about the next two weeks. The duckies and Cuddy had come and gone, wishing him a good trip (though Cameron was still brooding). As he picked up the backpack he stood up and saw Wilson standing there, holding out a brown-paper bag.

"AAAWWWW! Is that a going-away gift? I'm only going for two weeks. No need to get all weepy."

Wilson rolled his eyes and shook the bag, the contents' rattle filling the relatively quiet office. "No you moron. It's your meds for the next two weeks."

House sighed, perhaps hoping Wilson had forgotten about them. He limped to his best friend and took them, stuffing them into the backpack.

Wilson continued eyeing him. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

House rolled his eyes. "Then I wouldn't be doing anything at all, would I?" Wilson shook his head and lifted his hands in defeat then turned to walk away. He didn't get far when he heard House quietly say...

"Jimmy, I have to do this."

Wilson turned back to face him. "I know you do House. It's your only chance. Have fun." With that he turned on his heel and this time succeeded in walking away.

House sighed and face-palmed, then limped to the elevator.

Lurking in the shadows was the spy, who'd come back after they forgot something. Unexpected tears welled in their eyes as they watched the scene between House and Wilson.

And that one constant thought filled the person's mind...

six months. That's all Dr. Gregory House had...

six months.  
****


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10, Part 1:**

**Day 1: Princeton, NJ to Norfolk, VA: 5.5 hours, 320 miles**

For the first time in a long while, House finally had a reason, a purpose, for looking towards the future, albeit only two weeks. In fact he was so excited (yes, even Dr. House gets excited) he actually woke early (8:00) the next morning. His gear included: the essentials; a portable Garmin GPS device; a detailed map; his itinerary; and his harmonica (for whenever he felt like harmonizing beside a campfire...once he figured out how to begin one.). As he was packing, the itinerary suddenly didn't feel right. He had to change it...

Originally he'd planned for his first stop to be Pennsylvania but the previous night's television viewing changed this plan:

See, in his mad search for everything Spongebob, House got hooked on a documentary about the world's largest US Naval Base, the Naval Station Norfolk in Norfolk, VA.

This action surprised, yet fascinated, House. Generally the action of getting hooked on a military documentary isn't strange, surprising or awkward in and of itself. But for House it was strange, surprising and awkward.

Why? Because he'd always blamed the military for stealing his childhood. His father was a Marine pilot and, because House hated his father, he also despised the institution closest associated with him. As a result House shunned anything military.

Yet there he was, watching this documentary, becoming more and more fascinated by the minute.

And that's why he switched destinations.

House was going to Virginia.

Punching in "Norfolk, VA" into the handy GPS device, he prepped the bike: checking fluids, fuel levels, the tires. When all looked good, he placed one iPod ear bud in his ear, put on his helmet, began the bike...and off he went.

Listening to jazz and enjoying the cool, rapidly-warming morning, he was making good time, heading south on Highway 13 in Delaware. Having just passed Dover he noticed another motorcyclist in his rearview mirror. Intrigued, he slowed down so they'd come up alongside.

He saw the motorcycle pull up, hold his position, speed up a bit, as if only to give House enough time to check him out...then he laid rubber, leaving House in his dust. Not once did the driver look at him, which bugged him for some reason. But since he really wasn't in the mood to race he let the driver go.

He did get a good look at the bike and its rider: the license was a Vermont-issue and the bike was a black Honda Shadow Spirit, very shiny, very cool. The driver was dressed from helmet to boots in black and the way he handled it with precision and agility suggested a very experienced driver.

As the bike became a black speck on the horizon, House had a feeling this wasn't the last time he'd see the Shadow Spirit...or its driver.

By 3:00, after an uneventful (well, except for the Shadowy Rider) ride, House arrived at the Naval Station in Norfolk. Pulling up to the security gate, he obtained a visitors pass from the Officer at the gate.

"Drive to the Piers. You can park there. Are you here for a tour?" The Officer asked.

A sudden wave of sentimentality about his father came over House. This took him completely by surprise. Contempt was what House usually felt for his father. _What's Jimmy putting in those "natural" supplements anyway? Magic Mushrooms?_ House thought about that for a few beats. _On second thought, I like Magic Mushrooms. Perhaps these supplements aren't too bad._ Deciding to run with the sentimentality, he agreed on the tour. Shrugging he told the Officer, "Sure, why not."

"Your best bet would be the _USS Nassau_. When you get to the parking lot there's a map with directions to the ship. Enjoy."

Thanking the nice man with the gun, House found the Piers. Locating the _Nassau_, House was completely awed by a manmade creation And it truly was an awe-inspiring view. Looking around, he stopped the first uniformed sailor he saw, a man in his late 20s.

"Excuse me Sailor" he looked at the man's uniform. "Johanson." The tall, athletic sailor stopped and stood at attention. House rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Cut that out. You look ridiculous." Johanson didn't move a muscle. "Fine. Be like that. Listen, I'd like a tour of this here yacht. Where do I go?"

Johanson, still stoic though successfully trying not to laugh, said, "Check-In, sir. I'm headed that way. Follow me."

Stepping into the "Check-In" Office, Johanson saluted his Superior then said, "Sir, this gentleman would like a tour of the _Nassau_." The Superior, a bushy-browed gentleman of 50, smiled at House.

"Absolutely Sir." He removed a clipboard from the wall. After studying it for a few moments he turned to Johanson. "Johanson here is the only qualified Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist available."

House just stared at the sailors with huge, incredulous eyes and opened mouth. Shaking his head a bit, he snarked: "Excuse me. What language was that?"

Once again Johanson managed to hide a laugh beneath his stoic exterior as the Superior, whose name was Marshall, smiled wider. "Sir, that means he's familiar with all facets of the ship. You lucked out...he's the best we've got. Johanson, take him. When you're done report back here."

"Yes sir." Saluting each other, the younger Sailor turned to House. "This way."  
*****

**Chapter 10, Part 2:**

**Day 1: Princeton, NJ to Norfolk, VA: 5.5 hours, 320 miles**

As Johanson and House began the tour, Johanson explained a bit about the Naval Base and the _USS Nassau_ itself.

"Naval Station Norfolk is the world's largest US Naval Base. During the Cold War, it was the Naval Operations Base, or NOB." He turned to the _USS Nassau_. "_The USS Nassau_ is a Multi-purpose Amphibious Assault Ship used to carry Marines overseas to deploy with Marine Fighter Pilots." Johanson continued, not noticing the wistful look on House's face at the mention of "Marine Fighter Pilots"...his father. Though the mention was enough to make him uncomfortable, he pushed it to the back of his mind, like he always did, and continued the tour.

Three hours later, as the tour wound down, House was tired, his stomach was in great pain and he was favoring his left leg immensely...but he'd enjoyed it. Again, given his aversion to all things military, he still couldn't say way. He just did. Johanson watched as he took out a pill bottle, shook out two and swallowed them dry. This only increased the curiosity for the limping older man. Spotting a bench, Johanson pointed to it. "Sir, would you like to sit?"

"I don't need your help. I've taken care of myself just fine all my life." House, grumpy from the long day, snapped at his tour guide.

"Excuse me...SIR..." that was a sarcastic, frustrated SIR, "if you've taken such great care of yourself why are you limping and holding your stomach in pain?"

For the first time in a long time House was genuinely taken aback by someone else. He was upset...he'd thought he'd done a thorough job of masking the increasing stomach pains and fatigue as the tour went along.

Eyeing the sailor he asked, "You got a first name?"

"Sir, when not at work everyone calls me Bo."

Still watching him, House inexplicably felt he could trust Bo. This was quite odd in itself because House didn't trust anyone. Before he could stop himself he was saying, "I'm a doctor in Princeton, New Jersey. Several weeks ago I was diagnosed with inoperable stomach cancer and given only six months to live."

He paused to gather his words and breath. "Currently I'm on a cross-country motorcycle trip. You know, to see the Great Outdoors! Get in touch with the little people in their natural habitats. See the sights of the good old US of A."

Bo looked at him in surprise. This clearly snide and obnoxious New Jersey doctor was dying...and he was willing to share it with a perfect stranger. And he was going cross-country on a bike. You'd have to be an AVID rider to attempt an endeavor like that.

Since Bo was an avid rider himself, his curiosity got the best of his tongue and he asked, "Really? What type of bike do you ride?"

"Honda CBR1000RR with Replica Repsol paint."

Bo nodded, impressed. "That's a good bike, very fast. I prefer power. I've got a 1974 Harley Davidson XLCH 1000 Sportster."

It was House's turn to flash Bo a surprised look. "Really? I never expected a guy like you to have a Harley. A Yamaha, perhaps, or even a Vespa...but not a Harley."

Bo's eyebrow lifted at this. Normally he would've told whoever said that off. I mean, really??? A VESPA?!?!

But this "House" dude had made snide remarks, gestures and eye-rolls from the very beginning of the tour, and so frequently, Bo just seemed to have gotten used to it. He figured it was just House's way...just like that Vespa comment. He realized it would be prudent to take anything outlandish House says with a grain of salt.

Smiling, Bo said, "Well, sir, my wife has a Vespa. Sea foam green." He shook his head then lowered his voice and leaned closer to House. "Don't tell anyone but when she goes to bed I take the Vespa to the skate park to pop wheelies and practice my Triple Gainers."

House had to smile at this. Seeing the man had his number he was...surprisingly...ok with it. After all, it was much funner sparring with a complete stranger outside the hospital than with the usual suspects in PPTH. Besides, he was a fellow biker who'd just gone up in House's estimation. Genuinely interested in the sailor's bike House said, "I wish I could see it."

Bo tilted his head toward the "Check-In" office. "Let's go sir." House sighed, stood up and began slowly limping after him when Bo suddenly stopped, almost causing House to collide into him. "Hey, watch it! Are you trying to cripple my other leg?" House snarked.

"I'm sorry sir. I just had an idea." Bo smiled. "You want to see more of Virginia?"

House shrugged as if to say, "Ok, why not?"

"Ok, tomorrow is the Hampton Roads' Annual "Rumble Through the Tunnels" bike ride that benefits the Hampton Roads Navy and Marine Corps Relief Society and the local police departments. I rode it last year and it was totally stylin'. Hundreds of bikes, escorted by police, ride over several bridges and through tunnels of Virginia, including Virginia Beach, Newport News and Chesapeake. Afterwards we had barbeque, beer and a band. What do you say?"

How could House say no to booze, bikes and barbeque?? He couldn't.

"You're on."

Bo stood prouder. "Ok. Do you have a hotel for the night?" House shook his head. "Your best bet is the Omni in Newport News, about 10 miles from here. Come with me. I'll get you the information."

House agreed and they once again began the short trip to the "Check-In" office when House abruptly stopped Bo. With a skeptical eye, he evaluated the younger man. "Why are you doing this? You don't know me. What's your angle?" He shot Bo a "It better not be pity" look.

The sailor studied him in the stoic fashion taught in the Navy. Pity was a reason...but it wasn't the biggest. There was something else: Bo had always wanted to go on cross-country on the Harley but circumstances dictated otherwise.

Besides, House was a fellow biker. And bikers stick together.

Bo shrugged. "I've always wanted take the Harley cross-country but never had the opportunity. You should enjoy your trip, see as much as possible." And he left it at that.

For which House was grateful.  
****

**Chapter 10, Part 3: **

**Day 1: Princeton, NJ to Norfolk, VA; 5½ hours, 320 miles. **

**MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE FARM (ranch, homestead, hospital, whichever you prefer)**

**Wilson and Cuddy sat in her office, talking about…what else? House. **

**"What's going to happen?" Cuddy sat on her sofa beside Wilson, alternating between ringing her hands and rubbing her face. She'd rubbed so hard her makeup had disappeared.**

**Wilson studied her. He was actually surprised she'd managed to get it all off, even the eye-liner. He'd always assumed she used Brillo pads and a can of Armour-All Foaming Cleaner before going to bed. "Cuddy, calm down. You rub any harder your face will be smoother than the Louvre's marble floors." She looked at him incredulously.**

**"That's easy for you to say. You aren't his boss."**

**Wilson nodded. "True. I'm just the best friend. ****_I_**** haven't been carrying a torch for him." Cuddy's mouth opened to refute him but, at his sharp eyebrow lift, she sighed and nodded.**

**"Pretty pathetic, isn't it? Before he got sick I'd learned to ignore the feelings. It was actually a lot easier than you think…yell at a person long enough you begin to dislike him, no matter how hard you fight it or how many times you tell yourself you love him. Then…he got sick and those feelings came back."**

**"Are you sure it's love? Maybe it's that overwhelming doctorly feeling we get to heal those in need. You want him better, no matter what you tell yourself." Wilson paused, wondering if he should tell her. "Cuddy, um, do you realize you'd better deal with those feelings now, before he dies? Wait much longer and it'll be too late. Does House know about this?"**

**She shook her head and turned to him with a sad look. "Somehow I've always known nothing will come of it. There's just too much history there." Cuddy paused and started weeping. Frankly she was surprised she still had tears: weeping had become a constant, faithful companion since that fateful, dreadful day. "Wilson…do you think he knows?"**

**"Honestly?"**

**Cuddy rolled her eyes House-style. "No, lie to me. Of course honestly."**

**"Yes." **

**She reeled back at this declaration. "AND??" she prompted him.**

**Choosing to be as diplomatic about the situation as possible he said, haltingly at first, "I…think…the best alternative, for everyone involved, would be to not even address it. He needs your friendship and support more than he needs a lover. It's that support he needs, and even desires, much more than a warm body beside him. Do you understand?"**

**She nodded and Wilson handed her a tissue from his lab coat, at which she smiled her thanks. "You're right. I won't mention it anymore…not even to myself."**

**Wilson grinned and opened his mouth to say something when another voice asked, "Medical-wise, how are you treating him?" Both Senior Doctors turned and looked at the third voice which had appeared so suddenly, seemingly right out of thin air, to stand at Cuddy's doorway. They watched, with complete astonishment, as the person came further into the room and sat down in a chair opposite the sofa they were sitting in.**

**Wilson was the first to find his voice. "A variety of herbal and natural treatments until he's unwilling and/or unable to take them. Then we'll start him on Radiation and/or Chemo, whichever he prefers." He paused as he studied the new occupant. "How do you know?"**

**The spy smiled sadly. "I, um, accidentally overheard. That day I was coming to see you about a consult when House came and, well, the rest is history I suppose."**

**"What are you going to do about it? Have you shared it with anyone else?" Cuddy asked them.**

**The Stealthy One shook their head and left it at that.**

**What else could be said? The Secret Agent figured it was useless arguing over who heard what and whether or not it should've been heard in the first place.**

**Besides, they didn't have time. **

**House's was running out. Tic Toc. Tic Toc. The time kept moving but House's future would completely stop. He didn't have much longer.**

**After all, he only had…**

**Five months…**

*****

**Chapter 10, Part 4:**

**Day 2: Princeton, NJ to Norfolk, VA: 5.5 hours, 320 miles**

**LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE! It's time for the "Annual Rumble Through The Tunnels"!**

The next morning House heard a pounding on his hotel room door. Not fully awake since it was only 8:30, he grumbled, "Not dressed. The hookers stole my clothes."

PAUSE, then POUND, POUND. The door rattled from the force of the blows. Rolling his eyes House continued grumbling under his breath as he limped to the door and flung it open. Bo was standing there in casual attire: worn, faded jeans; t-shirt under flannel; worn black leather jacket with snap-down collar, zippered cuffs and removable belt. Naval and Harley-Davidson patches adorned the back, front and sleeves. Well-maintained leather boots rounded out the look.

House smirked. "What, no chaps? Spurs? Cowboy boots?"

Bo smirked back. "No sir. My wife makes me save those for special" (air quotes, lifting of eyebrows here) "occasions. She just loves that outfit." House raised his eyebrow as well. This Bo dude really was an enigma. He LOOKED straight-laced and clean-cut...but underneath House saw a crazy, free-spirit.

Just like himself...except for the whole straight-laced and clean-cut part.

Perhaps that was the reason he trusted Bo: they were more alike than they seemed, despite their obvious differences. But just because he trusted the guy didn't mean he had to be nice to him, right?

Oddly enough, when Bo mentioned his wife, House had the strangest feeling in his chest...almost like a...heart-tug?? House wasn't ever nice enough, nor sane enough, for a wife.

And now? Right then he really didn't mind the concept of marriage...actually thought it was starting to look better and better.

So...was that a feeling of jealousy because he didn't get free sex like Bo did? Was it really the sex?

_'No,'_ he thought. _'It's not about sex...though what a perk! No, it's that need to be wanted, that security only a wife can give her husband And isn't security what I need?_' Sighing resignedly, he picked up his jacket and followed, closing the door behind him_. 'Besides, what does it matter anyway?_

_'It's way too late now._'

The guys arrived at the South Side Harley Davidson in Virginia Beach just behind a group of Harleys that had arrived ahead of them. House and Bo cut their engines and looked around...ALL Harley Davidsons! House's mouth dropped and he turned to Bo. "Excuse me. Do you happen to notice something?"

Bo looked around and, not seeing anything particularly peculiar, he shook his head. "No sir."

"And just when were you going to tell me this was a HARLEY DAVIDSON rally?? From what I can see I've got the only orange, not to mention foreign, bike in this crowd. They're gonna taunt me, probably through beer cans." He paused and took a moment to admire the hundreds of chrome horses gleaming in the morning sunshine as they obeyed their leather-clad masters. He turned back to Bo and grinned. "I love it. I'm ready...let them try and bring it on."

Bo just shook his head. Just then the announcement of the start of the rumble came and everyone not on their bike ran to their wheels. Fifteen mintues later the sea of chrome took off in a haze of dust clouds and deafening noise. Several police vehicles lead and followed.

It was quite a sight...but one the locals were used to. What they WEREN'T used to was this conspicuously ORANGE bike amongst the silver, black, red, blue and gold of the others. In fact, as the bikers hummed, or, rather, roared along, people pointed and smiled at House...who didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, he was positively lapping up the attention, waving his hand and smiling for the kiddies as if he were the Homecoming Queen in a small-town parade.

As the ride progressed House actually ENJOYED it, which scared him to no end. For once he wasn't concentrating on the mileage from Point A to Point B. He was admiring the beauty of nature, the genius of the architecture of the buildings and tunnels. He basked in the brotherhood of the bikers, their lives and backgrounds almost as diverse as all the possible causes of Lupus. Once again that nagging feeling of regret took over...

and finally House did it. He recognized his need to come to terms with his life...and how that life would end.

Soon. Very very soon.

He didn't like that one bit.

So he saw his need to make the next two weeks absolutely unforgettable...for everyone fortunate, and unfortunate, who crossed his path.

Before anyone knew it, the ride was over and the bikers were pulling into the Hampton roads Harley Davidson in Newport News, Virginia...and House became the hit of the group! One after another came over to admire his bike and the way he handled it. Usually he hated that because it meant attention on him...but now he didn't care. He would enjoy it...and beg for more. Bo just shook his head as he watched this dying man lap up the kind of admiration Bo suspected House really needed.

He led the newly-crowned King of the Rumble (at least in his mind) to the roasting hog (_'Very fitting,'_ House thought) and handed him a beer. "So how'd you like it?"

House took a long draw from the bottle. "Not bad, not bad." He clamped his mouth shut. _'Just because I have a new perspective on life doesn't mean I'm going to go all Cameron with weepy tears and laments on how great life is.'_

They toured the area and Bo introduced House to buddies on his ship. They finally ended up at the Harley Davidson gift shop. Fifteen minutes later House emerged carrying...a teddy bear?!?!

Bo's eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "I had you pegged as a life-sized stuffed alligator guy...but teddy bears are ok. He even looks like you...scruffy and mean." They studied the bear: he wore a mini leather jacket, little leather chaps, tiny white t-shirt and a riding helmet attached to his paw. He even had a patch of scruff over his chin and hoop earring in his left bear ear. "Why do you have a teddy bear?"

House grinned his 'I know something you don't know' grin. "Hey, I bought it for a reason. Besides, it gets lonely on the road. He'll keep me company." Bo rolled his eyes and House, after acquiring some bungee cords, tied the bear to the backseat so he faced the cars behind him.

Bo studied the scene in front of them. "What you really need is a sign around his neck that says "BORN TO BE WILD". I'm sure you'll get all the attention you deserve." House tilted his head and, after studying the bear, nodded but didn't say anything.

He didn't need to...his sparkling, plotting eyes told the whole story.

After a huge meal, a bit of beer and some great music, it was time for House to move on. He followed Bo back to the Omni Hotel in Newport News where he checked out. Limping out of the hotel he found Bo still parked beside the Repsol. Plopping his knapsack on the seat between him and the bear, House secured his belongings then turned back to Bo who was holding a business card. House eyed it before taking and slipping into his pocket.

"If you're ever in Virginia again..." Bo paused, realizing House would probably never return...and the heavy pause wasn't lost on the dying doctor either. "...look me up. I'll show you how to pop wheelies on a Vespa."

House grinned, nodded then extended his hand, the only way he could repay for the kindness of inviting a lonely doctor for a bike ride. Bo didn't realize he gave the doctor something he'd needed for a long time:

A new friend.

Wilson was a great friend, in fact, the best...but he wasn't a bike rider. Admittedly, he didn't understand a lot of what House was going through.

That afternoon, riding with his brethren, House was finally understood.

And the memory of this understanding, this afternoon, and his new friend would help sustain him through the hard times he knew were coming.

Without another word House nodded that quick nod of his, jumped on the bike, turned over the engine...and he was gone, off to his next adventure.

And Bo watched as House became an orange spec on the horizon...and was reminded once again he'd probably never see his biker brother again.

And that was truly a tragedy.

Changing lanes House recalled, once more, for the thousandth time that day...

he only had five months.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: **

**Day 2: **

**Norfolk, VA to Durham, NC: 3 hours 15 minutes, 185 miles;**

**Day 3: **

**Durham, NC to Boone, NC: 3 hours, 166 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 671**

**House left Norfolk around 5 p.m.**

**By 8:30 he'd arrived in Durham, North Carolina, and he was exhausted. Not quite sure where he was headed, but not caring since his leg and stomach were protesting their prolonged attitude, he chose to find a hotel and would decide the next day what his route would be. Locating the Holiday Inn, he checked in and collapsed on the bed. Popping a Vicodin, he lay against the pillow…and didn't wake until early the next morning. **  
*********

**It was 7:00 when he awoke to find he was fully-clothed and lying on top of the covers. Sitting up, he moaned and held his stomach. **

**He'd begun noticing, little by little, the increasing pain. Being a doctor did help him recognize how the alternative treatments were slowly beginning to lose their effectiveness.**

**But would this stop him? Absolutely not. It would take a lot more than stomach cancer to keep him from doing what he'd set out to. Besides, he was having way too much fun.**

**Once again regret beset him. Come to think of it, this regret-thingie was creeping up on him a lot lately...more in these past few days than in most of his life. But it was a different regret-thingie than yesterday:**

**_Why didn't I do something like this earlier? _**

**Deciding it was too early to contemplate regret-thingies, he rubbed his eyes and took a closer look at his surroundings. The Holiday Inn was clean, nicely-furnished and the bed was comfortable. He noticed brochures and phone books beside the telephone on a side table across the room. Groaning he stood up and crossed to the table.**

**The brochures were for the local amenities and tourist attractions; information on nearby Duke University (****_Good basketball team_****, he thought); hotel information (****_Great...a continental breakfast. I'm starving._****); and information on the Appalachian Mountains. He didn't realize he was close enough to the mountains to find information about them in his hotel room, and his interest was peaked. One brochure in particular caught his eye. **

**It was for Boone, North Carolina. The brochure said Boone was recognized by travel journalists as the ultimate outdoor adventure destination in the Southeast. While not particularly keen on outdoor adventures, what caught his eye were the pictures of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Called "The All-American Road", the Blue Ridge Parkway is a 469 mile, toll-free Parkway that winds from the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina, and it cut right through Boone. He continued his perusal and found the Linn Cove Viaduct. Being the industrious guy he was, he was fascinated by the "world's only bridge built from the top down", meaning no heavy equipment was put on the face of the mountain to protect the mountain ecology. **

**This was it. He found his next stop. Swiping the brochure and stuffing it in his knapsack he turned toward the bathroom. He wanted to get ready, take his medicine, grab some grub and hit the road.**

*********

**It was around 11:30 a.m. when House arrived in Boone. The area took his breath away. Blue sky, as far as the eye could see, greeted him like a handshake. The mountain foliage, with its various shades of green too endless to count, resembled a sea as they moved as one with the wind. The mountain air was crisp, cool but promised a lovely warm day. After rolling into Durham pretty late the previous night, House decided to find a place right then so as to avoid the hassle later.**

**He saw the chain hotels (Best Western, Days Inn) but he knew he'd stay in chains for most of the trip. He wanted something a bit different…and knew he found it at the "Touch of Ireland" Bed and Breakfast. He was intrigued by the Irish motif, the flags and gadgets. Fortunately the "VACANCY" sign was lit. Parking the bike in the tiny paved parking lot, he gathered his belongings. He glanced down at the Teddy Bear he named Gregorio, and smiled. He debated about bringing him in…then decided he better. He'd left Gregorio on the bike the previous night because he was too tired to remember him. He felt a bit guilty about it…then berated himself for feeling guilty in the first place.**

**_Oh crap,_**** he sighed. ****_I'm starting to think like Cameron._**

**Grabbing the bear he limped inside where he found the tiny entrance tastefully decorated, the windows open and a beautiful dark-haired, fair skinned woman behind the front desk. Her equally-dark eyes watched a child of about 3 who played nearby. Though the girl was a redhead she looked exactly like the woman. ****_Must be her daughter._**

**"Welcome to Touch of Ireland Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you?" The woman asked…and House was stopped in his tracks by her heavy Irish accent. It was quite an amusing scene actually: this woman eyeing the haggard-looking traveler; her child staring at him with wide, chocolate-colored saucers; and the tall, limping, grizzled man holding the teddy bear. The child then saw the teddy bear…and her eyes lit up. **

**"Teddy." She pointed at the bear. "What's his name?"**

**House looked at Gregorio. "Gregorio." She continued to eye the bear as his owner limped to the desk. **

**"Your sign said VACANCY."**

**"Why it does indeed." She didn't say anything else and House rolled his eyes.**

**"That wasn't an observation. I need a room."**

**"Well, why didn't you just say so?" The woman, whose nametag said "VICTORIA", turned to her computer. House couldn't help but smile. This Irish lass sure had spunk. He continued to study her as she clicked the keys on the keyboard: about 5'6"; a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which was long, straight and narrow; straight white teeth. He was fascinated by her…but, then, on some level, he was fascinated by all women. The girl stood up and, in her curious 3-year-old way, came up to House and set a hand on Gregorio's foot. **

**"Katiana!" Her mother firmly said and the child stopped, stepped back and turned to her mother. "You need to ask the man if you can meet Gregorio." House smiled to himself as she attempted to pronounce the Italian version of his name. He looked at Katiana, who was watching her mother with her bottom lip sticking out, her face turning a bit red. ****_The red hair fits her, _****he thought. ****_She's got quite a stubborn, temperamental streak._**

**"Sure," House said, shrugging, surprising not only Victoria and Katiana by his kindness, but also himself. The child's eyes widened with anticipation as he handed her the bear to hold. She stood close to House and kept the bear company, taking her bear-watching responsibility very seriously. **

**He looked at Victoria and caught her staring at him. She then smiled, intently studying the sky blue of his eyes. "I should probably know the name of the man who's Teddy my daughter is holding."**

**House grinned. "Greg House. I'm just passing through and need a place to lay my head for the night."**

**"Hello Greg House. My name is Victoria Tompkins. Well, if it's a place to lay your head look no further." She typed his name into the computer and took his credit card. Once House was checked in Victoria said, "Follow me." She grabbed her keys and looked at Katiana. "Come on Kati-girl. Let's show Greg his room. Can you give Gregorio" (House couldn't help smiling at the Irish woman every time she said the bear's name) "back to Greg?"**

**Despite her obvious temper, Katiana was a good, obedient child who handed Gregorio back to his owner. She regarded the much taller adult, checking him out then looked down at his cane. "What's that?" she asked as she pointed to it.**

**House looked at what she was pointing at and her mother reprimanded her. "Kati! That's not very nice."**

**He regarded the child. "That's a cane."**

**Her study of him never wavered as she moved her mouth, as if to swish the new word around, tasting it, trying it on for size. "What do you need a can" (she did pronounce it "c-a-n") "for?"**

**As taken with the child as he was (which surprised him to no end), he didn't want to spend all day indulging the child of the innkeeper. "It helps me walk." He looked at Victoria. "I want to stow away my gear then breathe some mountain air." **

**Victoria went around the front desk and grabbed her child's hand. "Come on Greg. I'll get you set up then give you some inside information, you know, of where the best places to go are." Victoria almost had to drag Kati with her because the child insisted on staring behind her, watching House and this "can". House smiled but sighed and followed them up the stairs.**

*********

**Chapter 11, Part 2:**

**Day 2: Norfolk, VA to Durham, NC: 3 hours, 15 minutes, 185 miles;**

**Day 3: Durham, NC to Boone, NC: 3 hours, 166 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 671****  
*************  
**When the adults and the child reached the door that was to be House's room, Victoria said, "Have you found anything you are interested in seeing or doing?"

He shrugged his shoulders in a "Perhaps I have" gesture as she turned the lock on the door. The door swung open to reveal a very simple, but tasteful, bedroom. All the deep-brown cherry furniture matched: Queen-sized bed in the middle; wardrobe to the left of the bed; a desk and chair on the opposite side; a large china pitcher and basin on cherry stand in the corner on the other side of the bed. A private bath. The greens, browns, and soft oranges of the color scheme were tastefully utilized. It was very earthy, very natural...which suited House just fine. He was just relieved the room wasn't decorated like a basket of Easter eggs had exploded.

At least, that's how he always thought B&Bs were decorated. He figured Laura Ashley (he was surprised he even know about Laura Ashley...oh, blast that Cameron and her fru-fru girly magazines) had the market cornered on B&Bs.

"Let me give you a few suggestions." she said as House limped into the room, placed Gregorio in the chair by the desk, threw his knapsack (but kept his motorcycle helmet) on the bed and turned back to mother and daughter. Katiana was eyeing Gregorio, a worried look on her face. Her concern for leaving Gregorio by himself was as plain as the nose on her face.

House limped over to the child, knelt as best as possible and said, "Gregorio's my Security Bear. I need him to stay right where he is so he can stand guard of my room. Is that ok?" With wide eyes of brown concern, Katiana looked at House then Gregorio then back to House. Nodding solemnly she quietly made her way to the bear and kissed his nose.

"You be fine right here Greggie," she said and Victoria snorted, fighting to restrain her laughter. Katiana went back to her mother, took her hand and turned back to House. The wide eyes of brown concern silently pinkie-swore House that Gregorio would be just fine. House stood the best he could and silently made the promise.

Reaching into his knapsack he pulled out the brochure he swiped from the Holiday Inn in Durham. Spreading it open he looked at Victoria. "I have this brochure," he began and pointed to The Blue Ridge Parkway and the Linn Cove Viaduct. "I thought I'd try those out. Anything else?"

Victoria looked at him with a contemplative look. "Those are good. You should also try Grandfather Mountain, "Carolina's Top Scenic Attraction." It's about 20 miles south of here and is the highest peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains. There's also the Tweetsie Railroad, a historic steam locomotive. It's a three-mile ride and very scenic." She tapped a long finger against her dimpled chin as she continued her thought then extended her left index finger in a point, as if to drive home her suggestion. It was then House noticed for the first time the gold wedding band on her left hand. _Where was her husband?_ He thought curiously. "Oh, and Mystery Hill. Now that's an interesting place...where water flows up hill and you'll have a hard time standing up straight." House's eyebrow raised at this and Victoria smiled. "Come on. I've got informational brochures downstairs." All three marched downstairs where Victoria located the brochures.

"I definitely suggest the Blue Ridge Parkway. However, make sure you stop for petrol before your trip. Petrol stations are very few and far between along the Parkway. The speed limit is 45 but you won't want to go that fast. The scenery is some of the best in the world and you don't want to miss it."

Not quite sure how to handle all this kindness, he just nodded and turned toward the door when Victoria stopped him. "Oh, and Mr. House?"

He stopped, not quite knowing exactly how to respond. Nobody every called him "Mr. House": it was usually "Dr. House"; "House"; "ba***rd"; "jerk"; "moron"; or "baboon." (That one was fairly new...he kinda liked it.) Oh, and "Don't be an idiot".

He turned to her. "Yes Miss Tompkins?"

"Have you had lunch yet?" He shook his head. "I would suggest riding the Parkway and taking lunch with you before doing anything else. If you start on the Parkway without lunch, you'll go five minutes and wish you had lunch. There are some great places to picnic or to find a spot to enjoy the scenery. Cafe 161 has soup and sandwiches; Carolina Barbecue has ribs; and there's Mile High Sub Shop and Jersey Mike's subs. There's also fast food, like McDonalds, KFC, etc. Oh, and I serve supper here at 7:00. Tonight we're having Reuben sandwiches. You're more than welcome to join us."

House's face involuntarily lit up at this...what luck. His favorite. Returning his face to blase, since he didn't want to seem TOO eager, he shrugged and nodded. "Ok." Giving Victoria a brief nod and Katiana a wink, at which she giggled, House and his "can" headed out the door in search of...who knows? But he was game.

He spent all day locating sights he'd read about. His first stops were Carolina Barbecue then the gas station. Easily locating the Blue Ridge Parkway, he drove about 10 miles and found an empty rest area. Removing his leather jacket, since the weather was too nice for him to wear it, he awkwardly lowered himself to the ground, opened his barbecue box to find a heaping helping of pulled pork and shredded beef, and listened to nature. Insects buzzed around the brightly-colored flowers; birds chirped as they enjoyed the fresh mountain air.

Finishing his food he sighed, rubbed his belly with satisfaction then laid down. Just as a peaceful blanket of a nap overtook him...

that regret-thingie sprang up on him again...well, it was more like it pulled a "Batman" attack-from-the-sky move on him. That _**"Why didn't I do something like this earlier**_**?"** regret-thingie was back. He was upset...he thought he'd dealt with that one already. Sighing he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the distraction...but that only rattled the question further into his brain until he had no choice but to deal with it.

And so began the dialogue with himself:

**_"Because I had too much to do. I didn't have time."_**

**_"Of course you had time...but you chose to spend it brooding over your piano; in your Vicodin bottle; in a whiskey bottle; or with those hookers. You really are a pimp, you know that??"_**

**_"Oh shut up! You don't know what its like."_**

**_"EXCUSE ME?!?! I don't know what its like? Who do you think I am, a talking bird that came swooping over to sit on your shoulder? Hello...don't you remember me? I am your CONSCIENCE you moron. I know we don't speak that often. Perhaps if we had you wouldn't be in this pathetic situation in the first place."_**

**_"Oh, you mean I'd be "normal" with a wife, 2 kids, 3 dogs, a mortgage and a white-picket fence?"_**

**_"Good gracious no. You've never been normal. I never expected you to be normal. But you could've been happy, and made the right decisions, in WHATEVER situation you found yourself in. I've never understood your obsession with self-destruction."_**

And so this dialogue went, back and forth, until, finally, House screamed outloud, "ENOUGH PEOPLE! Can't we just AGREE to DISAGREE??" Shaking his head and feeling even more bewildered than before the conversation began, he got up, shook out his jacket, slipped it back on, got on his bike and began the trip down the Parkway and over the Viaduct.

He continued the self-guided tour, finding the Tweetsie Railroad. The scenic 3-mile trip was amazing, the slow chugging of the steam locomotive rocking his aching stomach and leg.

It would've been even more amazing if he could've stopped thinking of that internal dialogue. At last the ride ended and he was extremely tired.

Who knew how tiring regret-thingies could be?

He stepped off the locomotive and, as he limped heavily back to his bike, he checked his watch. 4:30 p.m. He had enough time for a quick nap before supper (his mouth watered just then at the thought of the Reuben). Unfortunately he had to bypass Grandfather Mountain and Mystery Hill.

But that didn't really matter...all he wanted was an hour of uninterrupted sleep...

and that included a temporary silencing of his conscience.  
*****

**Chapter 11, Part 3: **

**Day 2: Norfolk, VA to Durham, NC: 3 hours 15 minutes, 185 miles;**

**Day 3: Durham, NC to Boone, NC: 3 hours, 166 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 671**

**When House arrived back at the B&B, he spotted Victoria typing on her computer; Katiana was nowhere to be seen. As House limped heavily to the front desk, Victoria looked up, smiled and asked, "So how was your day?"**

**"I'm bushed. I need some sleep. Can you call me just before dinner?"**

**Concerned about the rapidly deepening lines around his eyes and the way he was holding his stomach, she nodded. Just as she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, she saw his "Don't ask" look and quickly changed her mind. "Supper's at 7:00. Will 6:30 be alright?"**

**He nodded, regarded the woman for a moment then slowly moved to the stairs. Awkwardly and painfully traversing the mountain of stairs, he sighed when he reached the door. Pulling out his key he turned the lock, flipped on the ceiling fan/light and flopped on the bed. Deftly removing his shoes, he sighed, this time with relief as the comfortable bed supported his aching body. Just as welcome slumber began to overtake him…**

**…his phone rang.**

**"$#&%!" he swore loudly and reached into his knapsack. He swore again at the Caller ID printout. He was about to send it to voice mail when he suddenly realized how much he missed PPTH. He was startled by this revelation but managed to catch the phone on its last ring.**

**"House's Harem of Horticulture," he said nonchalantly. "Give her a Tiger Lily and she'll be purring for you tonight. Herman House speaking."**

**SILENCE then "I see you're doing well House," came the familiar voice.**

**"Well? Well doesn't even describe it. I had an amazing constitutional this morning; an exhilarating enema compliments of Trixie the Dancer this afternoon; and I'm about to have a lumbar puncture by Amber the Stripper…or is that a puncture by her black patent-leather Stiletto boots? Either way it should be fun."**

**PAUSE. "House that's…just…something I didn't need to know." House smiled. He loved giving Wilson too much information. "How are things on the road?"**

**"Just yippee skippy peachy keen Jimbo. Why are you calling?"**

**PAUSE. "I…um…" Wilson was stammering. "…I was wondering how the medicine was working."**

**House smiled even wider. Wilson was as good at lying as OJ Simpson was at being innocent: absolutely lousy. "Are you sure you didn't miss me? It's ok to admit it. Get in touch with your inner Jimmy."**

**He could hear Wilson's eyes rolling. "I don't miss you."**

**"Yeah right, and I'm D.B. Cooper." It was House's turn to roll his eyes as he sarcastically retorted back.**

**"Oh, so THAT'S how you hurt your leg. Well, jumping out of a hijacked 727, in mid-air, while carrying $200,000 in cash will do that. By the way, how'd you spend the money?" **

**"How do you think I can afford the hookers?" Pause. "Jimmy, I've got a splitting headache, my leg aches, and my stomach hurts. I'd love to stay on and chat all night but I've got to take a nap because the beautiful young innkeeper is going to feed me. I need to get all rested up and still have time to primp."**

**"Your stomach hurts?!?! Does it hurt all the time?"**

**House sighed and decided to placate him by giving him the truth. "Only after a long day of riding, sightseeing or amazing sex. Too bad it's just been the first two. But," he paused. "the pain is coming on quicker and more frequently."**

**"Maybe you should return."**

**House shook his head vehemently even though no one could see him. "No. This is my time, my chance. I can't chicken out and cut the trip short. I don't have a choice."**

**LONG EXASPERATED SIGH. "I know House. I thought I would try."**

**"You're as pathetic as Cameron, you know that? I'm not your child and as far as you know you don't have any children. But I'm sure you can arrange something with Cuddy to change that. Then you'll have someone to need you 24/7."**

**"What?"**

**"Never mind. I'm hanging up now."**

**"Bye House. Let me know if you need anything." Wilson knew, as soon as he said that, how futile a statement like that was. House wouldn't call him if he were on fire and needed Wilson to garden hose him down. ****_He'd probably burn to death before asking for help,_**** Wilson reasoned.**

**"Bye Jimmy." CLICK. Turning off his phone he took the moment to remove his jeans and t-shirt, slipped under the covers and quickly fell asleep.**  
*********  
**RING, RING. RING, RING.**

**House sprang up in bed an hour later and rubbed his eyes.**

**RING, RING. RING, RING.**

**_Who on earth could that be?_**** He thought…then remembered his request for Victoria to wake him up. Sighing he picked up the receiver.**

**"Hello?" he mumbled.**

**"It's 6:30 Mr. House. Supper's in 30 minutes." The soft, thick Irish brogue was a comfort to him. He was suddenly interested in listening to her speak and quickly resolved to get her to talk all through supper.**

**"Ok, I'll be down." He hung up and slowly moved to the side of the bed. Thankfully everything that ached had dulled through the slumber...but he probably should've taken something before going to sleep. He was just too tired. Pulling open his knapsack and removing clothes (he was long overdue for laundry service) he saw his cancer medication. Sighing he opened the medicine bag and found the pills specifically targeted to his cancer pain. He took one then headed to the bathroom.**  
*********  
**When he emerged, just in time for supper, he found it was only Victoria, Katiana and himself for supper. "Please sit Mr. House." He obliged, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The cancer pain pill really worked because now he could tell when he was hungry. Just as he reached for the platter of Reuben sandwiches, Victoria and Katiana folded their hands and bowed their heads, preparing for a prayer.**

**House, for once completely awkward and fidgety, bowed his head and listened to their simple prayer, to which Katiana ended it with "Amen". Looking up slowly and seeing mother assist daughter, he knew it was safe and once again reached for the platter. Now, normally he would've protested the ritual that he was so completely unaccustomed to…but he just couldn't bring himself to do something that blatantly rude to this family. Unconsciously they'd become too valuable for that. **

**Clearing his throat he chose a Reuben, some sauerkraut and other goodies. Once he was settled he looked up to see Victoria regarding him. "What?" he asked.**

**She smiled. "Nothing." She looked back down at her food.**

**House decided to press her for information. "I see your wedding ring there Miss Tompkins. Where's your husband?"**

**Victoria's movements froze, her fork laden with sauerkraut stopped halfway to her mouth. As if mentally shaking herself, her head shook quickly and she set down the fork. "My husband Frank died a year ago."**

**His face fell and he knew he'd messed up. Sighing he looked down at his plate but didn't say anything.**

**She smiled sadly. "We owned this B&B together; he worked it full-time and I taught part-time at Appalachian State University as a British/Irish Literature professor. One minute he's up on the ladder, cleaning the guttering; the next he's had a heart attack and was gone by the time he hit the ground. It was too sudden. He'd never had health issues and the doctors never figured out how he got one." She looked down at her fork then shoved it into her mouth. **

**Katiana was eating some vegetables and watching the boarder. "I miss Daddy." House's heart stopped beating for a moment but he didn't say anything. "Mommy misses him too. She cries at night." His gaze went to her mother who seemed to be off in another world.**

**Clearing his throat he decided to quickly change the subject and said, "The Parkway and Viaduct were amazing. Very serene."**

**Victoria suddenly came back to the conversation and smiled. "Yes they are wonderful." Then she stopped talking. The tension was inexplicably thick: House wasn't willing to talk about himself, which Victoria knew and wouldn't push. After all, he's a paying boarder. Chatter wasn't necessary.**

**She wanted to drop the subject and Katiana wasn't a chatty child. Never was. She was very introspective and thoughtful. **

**Therefore supper was very quiet and ended very soon. As House put down his napkin and slid back his chair he turned to the women: one regarding him pensively, the other wondering if she'll ever see Greggie again (guess which one was which.). Directed at Victoria he said, "Thank you for supper. It was very good." Victoria smiled and nodded. "Miss Tompkins, I need to do laundry. Do you have facilities I can use here?"**

**She nodded again. "Absolutely. Just bring it down and I'll get you set up." House nodded his quick head nod then stood up. Turning to leave he stopped when Katiana blurted out, "Mr. Howsie," (that's how it sounded) "why are you so sad?"**

**He turned back and looked at the child, her huge, chocolate-brown eyes full of innocent wonder…and he found himself not denying what seemed to be plainly written all over his face. Though the child seemed very smart and very intuitive, she was, after all, only 3 years old and he wanted to avoid the inevitable grilling session for as long as possible. He also knew she'd see right through his lie so, deciding he'd probably never see these people again, why not be completely honest? ****_Perhaps I should try it more often,_**** he thought, knowing he was finally listening to his conscience…at least a little bit. Avoiding Victoria's eyes he looked directly at Katiana, who was eagerly awaiting his answer. "I'm very lonely. I've done things in my life I shouldn't have done. I've made people mad and made people sad. I've hurt myself. That's why I'm sad. Have you ever hurt yourself, fallen down and scraped your knee perhaps?"**

**Katiana was analytically watching House, trying to soak in what he said. She quickly nodded. "The owies hurt."**

**"My owies are a lot more painful and they hurt all the time. Do you understand?"**

**Katiana nodded again and said with all the honesty of an innocent 3-year-old, "When I get a owie Mommy kisses it and it feels all better. Can I kiss your owies?" Victoria's eyes filled with tears at the huge heart her daughter possessed. **

**House saw Victoria's tears and smiled sadly. "Thank you Katiana. That's very nice of you. Did you know you've already helped my owwies when you took such good care of Greggie?"**

**Katiana shook her head, her brown eyes studying him intently. Not quite understanding what he meant she did understand the honest look in his eyes and trusted him. Nodding she smiled faintly. "Ok. I love Greggie."**

**He nodded. "I do too." **

**And he wasn't lying.**  
*********  
**The night ended quietly, with House doing his laundry and the women going to bed.**

**But he couldn't help replaying the dinner table conversation in his mind. It made him evaluate what he was doing, where he should be going…and he wondered if he should try and make amends when he returned. He wasn't comfortable with the whole "making amends" thing, simply because he didn't understand the concept or the process. But what had he to lose?**

**His life was permanently changing in…**

**Five months.**  
*********


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

**Day 4: Boone, NC to Atlanta, GA: 5 hours, 300 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 971**

*********  
**The next morning House woke up later than he hoped…around 9:00 but he felt…rejuvenated somehow. It must be the mountain air. Yeah, that must be it... **

**Or could it be this tiny family that had opened doors in his life, and heart, that would've otherwise remained sealed shut if he hadn't stopped at their B&B?**

**About an hour later, with knapsack, motorcycle helmet and Gregorio in tow, House trudged his way down the steps. As he entered the foyer he found Victoria back again behind the computer, helping a young couple who were standing so close together they seemed as one person. He rolled his eyes. ****_Newlyweds. Gag me,_**** he thought. Scanning the room he found Katiana playing with some blocks in the corner. Limping over to her, he smiled down. "Hi Katiana."**

**She looked up and smiled at the tall man in front of her. "Hi Mr. Howsie." Her eyes lit when she saw Gregorio. "And Greggie!" She squealed at the bear.**

**"Good morning Mr. House," the soft Irish brogue greeted his back. House turned and smiled at Victoria. "If you'll wait here I'm showing this couple to their room then I'll get you checked out of your room." He gave her a single quick head nod and watched her lead the couple upstairs. He turned back to Katiana who was watching him. **

**"Are you going?" she asked and he nodded. "And is Greggie going too?" He nodded again. "Why?"**

**"I'm going for a very long ride and I'll get very lonely on the ride. Gregorio keeps me company. Do you like riding in the car?" Katiana nodded. "Have you ever seen a car with two wheels?" Katiana shook her head, her eyes growing at the strange concept. "When your mom comes back I'll show you my car with two wheels. How's that?" Katiana nodded and clapped her excitement.**

**Victoria came back down and, seeing the happy twosome, asked, "What's going on?"**

**"Mr. Howsie's gonna show me his car with two wheels." Katiana stood up and began jumping in place. Victoria looked confused and turned back to House. **

**"My motorcycle." She nodded and turned back to the desk. **

**"Let's get you checked out then we'll all go see the car with two wheels."**  
*********  
**Five minutes later the three went outside to his "two-wheeled car"…and the look in the child's face was absolutely priceless. The orange trim of the sport motorcycle had the girl entranced as she stared at it. House shook his head as he strapped Gregorio and his knapsack in then turned back. Victoria was impressed and told him so.**

**"I'm impressed. It's a beautiful bike. My husband was always partial to Harleys." She smiled sadly and House looked down at the bag she held.**

**Pointing to it he asked, "What's this??" She looked down and smiled, a blush bright through her transparent skin. **

**"A little something to remember us by." Victoria extended the bag and he slowly, reluctantly took it. Opening it he pulled out a neatly folded black t-shirt with gold "APPALACHIAN STATE UNIVERSITY" letters across the front. He looked at her questioningly and she blushed deeper. "It was a gift I gave my husband just before he died." This made House fidget, uncomfortable at the prospect of receiving a dead husband's gift. She immediately caught his discomfort and shook her head. "No…it's ok. I want it to go to someone special, someone…" (she began to fidget herself) "…like you. He'd want you to have it. Please take it."**

**He was studying her seriously. He knew this was a huge thing for her to do. He also knew it would be rude to refuse such a gesture. That never stopped him before…why now? And why again? He didn't know…but, once again, he just couldn't be rude to her. **

**Giving him one quick nod but avoiding his eyes, Victoria grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled her a bit away from the motorcycle. "Come on, Kati-girl. Mr. House needs to leave."**

**"Can I say goodbye to Greggie?" Katiana asked. Her mother finally made eye contact with House who nodded quickly, quirking his mouth. Victoria quickly led Katiana and lifted her up to Gregorio's eyelevel. She kissed his nose and softly cooed, "I love you Greggie. Be good, eat your veggie-tables and brush your tooths. Bye Greggie." Patting his head she squirmed out of her mother's arms, ran to House, grabbed his good leg, gave it a squeeze then took off for the front door. **

**House, at once a loss for words, just moved toward his bike. Carefully stowing away the t-shirt in the knapsack, he buckled his helmet on, carefully maneuvered onto the bike, snapped his cane in the handy cane clip then turned back to Victoria. She's regained her confidence and held her hand out. Looking into her eyes with a silent and humble "Thank you", he gently shook her hand and started the motor. She backed up and, giving one last wave, he pulled out and onto the highway.**

**The woman left behind had unconsciously given him a piece of her heart. What she felt for him was by no means romantic; she'd already recognized the inner battles and demons he was facing…or, rather, riding away from. No, what she felt was genuine compassion…and her heart cried for him.**  
*********  
**Weaving in and out of traffic House's mind remained on the gift from the widow-woman. ****_Why would she give something that morbid to a complete stranger?_**** He asked himself…and his conscience responded.**

**_She cares for you. And it's not morbid. That shirt was probably very special to her._**

**_Then why give it to me?_**

**_Because you clearly need it more than she did. She drew comfort from it and that's what she wanted you to do. She wanted to comfort you._**

**Though not completely understanding, there was still enough understanding there for his heart to swell…a feeling he'd long forgotten…**

**…but suddenly missed.**  
*********  
**At around 5:00 p.m. House arrived in Atlanta. Quickly locating another Holiday Inn Express, he stashed away the knapsack and his favorite driving companion (since this one didn't say a word), and went out searching for the local flavor.**

**Never one for organized tours or tired, overworked speeches from tired, overworked tour guides, he avoided major attractions like the Coca-Cola Museum but did drive by the Olympic Village and Stadium, taking time to study the architecture and other offerings. **

**Not quite sure of what to do next, he hopped on the highway and began driving, watching the scenery. An hour into the drive he saw a sign for the Atlanta Rollergirls, the local Women's Roller Derby team. His face took on a very determined look when he saw the next match was that night...and in one hour! Pulling over to the shoulder, House punched in the address of the venue, the All American Skating Center, into the GPS system and learned he was very close. **

**Working his way back on the freeway, he knew this would be a good night: though he'd never actually seen a Roller Derby match-up, he figured that, if they looked anything like the woman on the billboard (with tight-fitting spandex shorts, little cotton t-shirts that hugged in all the right places and legs that all the way up), seeing those women was, in itself, worth the admission charge.**  
*********  
**He limped into the crowded Skating Center…and whistled, along with half the venue, at the women as they took practice laps around the track. Buying a beer and finding his seat, the girls left the track and, five minutes later, the match of the Atlanta Rollergirls and the Oakland Outlaws, began.**

**Within the first few minutes, he saw how violent this sport really was. Those chicks were tough, knocking their oponents against the sidewalls as if they were playing hockey and running over them with their skates. House was so enthralled he didn't realize how much he was drinking and, by the end of the match he was fairly inebriated, but not without enough facilities to approach the track without looking drunk. **

**Flashing his baby blues, he approached a group of girls and began chatting…**

**And that was the last thing he remembered.**  
*********  
**He awoke the next day to find his head spinning, his leg aching, his stomach shooting .44s…and a thin, muscular arm wrapped around his chest, messy blonde hair covering the face of the person lying beside him.**

**It abruptly came crashing back to him…and he moaned.**

**"What is it baby?" asked the female blonde mop in a honey-dripped Southern accent filled with sleep.**

**Oh boy…**

*********


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 **

**Day 5: Atlanta, GA to Birmingham, AL: 2 hours, 15 minutes; 147 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,118**

**"What time is it?" the blonde mop asked. This time she lifted her head and Greg saw, through the bright sunlight of the open window, an attractive female, mid-twenties, with blonde hair that should've been re-dyed weeks ago; brown eyes and several piercings in each ear. She turned to the clock radio that read "9:00" and sat straight up, cursing the late hour.**

**She threw aside the hotel-issue bed covering and jumped up, her long, lean body silhouetted against the sunshine. "I've got to get out of here. My husband will KILL ME if he catches me with another man. And after I vowed it would never happen again." She sped-talked as she gathered the Roller Derby uniform strewn all over the hotel room.**

**Even as House never wanted this to happen again (or in the first place, for that matter), he at least wanted to know the name of the woman he woke up with. After all, he knew the names of the hookers he slept with. "What's your name?"**

**"Rochelle. And you?" Rochelle stopped as she pulled on her t-shirt.**

**"Greg. How did this happen??" He sat up and rubbed his eyes. She stopped and studied him.**

**"You really don't remember, do you?" **

**He shook his head. "I remember what we did…just not right before."**

**"Ok. You came down to talk to us. We talked…one thing led to another…you drove us back to your hotel…and here we are." **

**"If you're married why are you here?"**

**Rochelle shrugged. "I'm a sex addict. Jeff and I have gone into therapy but I can't help it. Don't feel bad…you're not the first. It's a good thing we used protection." **

**And for that he was relieved.**  
*********  
**Long after Rochelle left he was still lying in bed, still incredulous as to the sudden turn of events. He promised himself he never wanted to have one-night stands. They seemed even cheaper than hookers…for what reason he didn't know. Maybe because the relationship between the hooker and the client is a contractual relationship and nothing but a business dealing.**

**Still, he was upset…or, rather, his male pride was upset, not because it wasn't one of those "He's interesting and let's see where this leads" sort of things. He didn't really want that since he didn't want a strings-attached relationship in the first place. No, what upset him was that he was just one of a string of men she used to feed her addiction.**

**And wouldn't you know it? The inevitable happened: his conscience attacked him. ****_Isn't that what you do to others, Jimmy, Cuddy? Don't you use them to feed YOUR addiction._**

**_But that's different…I need the Vicodin._**

**_You are NO different from Rochelle: Rochelle thinks she needs the sex. Otherwise she wouldn't be doing this._**

**Really not wanting to face the prospect he was anything CLOSE to being like Rochelle, since clearly she was an addict, he finally got out of bed. Suddenly his stomach reminded him it was time for his medicine. Dragging his weary body to the bathroom, he grabbed his knapsack on the way and began a shower, telling himself it was time to leave this city.**  
*********  
**After breakfast he was back on the road. Weaving in and out of traffic, his thoughts were back to PPTH: how he missed the smell of the hospital (as strange as that seemed); the feel of the whiteboard marker in his hand at the EXACT MOMENT he knew what was wrong with the patient; the low-cut blouses of his boss. He was so lost in thought he almost missed the black streak that pulled beside him, which he caught in the corner of his eye.**

**The Black Shadow Rider was back…where did he come from? ****_Was he following me? Of all the places in this country he could be, he had to be RIGHT HERE at the same moment I was._**

**Sitting up straighter on the bike, he made no effort to hide his gawking. The rider looked at House, gave a salute then took off. This time House wasn't going to let him off the hook. Who'd this turkey think he was anyway? He sped up and stayed on his tail. It became a cat-and-mouse game of the rival Hondas: House would catch up then speed up; Black Shadow Rider would catch up then speed up. It continued like this, with the Black Shadow Rider in the lead, as they reached Birmingham, Alabama, about two hours later.**

**Since he didn't have any specific place to be House decided to follow the Black Shadow Rider…and was glad he did. When he pulled up in front of Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum he almost crashed the bike…but Black Shadow Rider proceeded through the entrance. He'd read about this museum and always wanted to go but wasn't it interesting it took an irritating sport driver to lead him here? His excitement built as he drove through the entrance and into the parking lot, searching for the Black Shadow. He grinned when he found it.**

**Parking two stalls away from his "friend", he got off, secured Gregorio with a padlock he kept inside his bike box, and limped on inside. When he stepped through the doors he thought, for a moment, he'd died and gone to motorsports' heaven: his mouth dropped as he counted 5 floors of motorcycles. **

**Salivating he stepped further inside and joined a tour group, keeping one eye on the feast of motorbikes…and the other for a certain dark rider. Pretty soon this other eye joined the first one. Turned out there were approximately 900 bikes in the collection but only about 500 displayed at one time, with 143 marquees represented with dates ranging from the oldest being 1904 to the present. **

**The tour lasted about an hour but House wanted to touch, examine, picture himself on as many bikes as possible. So, after grabbing lunch at a restaurant on the top floor, he began his slow examination of each bike, whistling and admiring the bikes and talking with other fellow museum-goers and bike enthusiasts. The sight was quite amazing: this man who didn't like "social interaction" was actually enjoying the conversations with the other bike enthusiasts.**

**Before he knew it, "The Museum closes in one hour" was made over the loudspeaker. He looked at his watch: 5:00. It was during this break in his Motorcycle Hormonal Haze that he noticed how much his leg and stomach was bothering him. Sighing with regret since what he saw was only the tip of the iceberg he slowly limped away, as if being dragged out by an invisible hand.**

**Limping back to the bike he saw…the Black Shadow Rider! House moved just outside the Rider's viewing range so House got a good look at the Rider…and he was without his helmet.**

**House stopped walking and his jaw dropped. "He's a freakin' GIRL!" He growled under his breath as he watched her toss her auburn, mid-back-length hair in the breeze. He was too far away to see her eyes but he saw how translucent her alabaster skin was. Just then she spotted him staring at her…and she saluted again, this time quirking her mouth lazily as if to say, "So I'm a girl…what are you going to do about it?"**

**"I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it," he mumbled again then began limping her way. But she had the advantage of his slower movement as she slipped on the helmet and started the bike. She was slowly backing up when he get to her. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she opened the tinted portion of the visor and he saw her eyes were a shamrock green. He also saw how exquisitely beautiful she was, perhaps the most uniquely beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Before he could react, she winked and blew him an air kiss!**

**Then she was gone…and he knew he had no hope of reaching her again…at least not that day.**

**Perhaps they'd meet again later. **

**And hopefully he'd be ready.**  
*********


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 **

**Day 5 and 6 (a.m. only): Atlanta, GA to Birmingham, AL: 2 hours, 15 minutes; 147 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,118**

**Grumbling he went back to his motorcycle and told Gregorio about the new driver. "And she's a GIRL! I'm getting bested out there by a girl. Can you believe that? But it does help that she's HOT." Gregorio was an extraordinary listener and didn't interrupt his rant for which House was thankful. By the time he was done he felt much better. Talking with someone, or something, really did help. He should, perhaps, try it more often.**

**He found a hotel, which was beginning to get old but he realized he'd be living out of them for the next week and a half, and flopped on the bed with Gregorio the Teddy Bear. Flipping through the surprising amount of channels offered, he found a couple movies he was going to order then called room service. After the night before he wasn't up to exploring the night life of Birmingham, Alabama. He just wanted a quiet night in the hotel.**  
*********  
**After finishing his expensive, but delicious, medium rare steak, potatoes, vegetables and apple pie, he sighed and leaned back against the headboard to order the first movie. Just as the movie title scrolled across the screen his cell phone rang.**

**He sighed and rolled his eyes but reached into the knapsack to pull the cell phone out. His eyebrow quirked as he read the Caller ID then flipped it open. "House."**

**"We've got a patient."**

**"Hello yourself Cameron. How are you kids coping with Daddy gone?"**

**EXASPERATED SIGH. "I cry into my pillow every night, my eyes are red in the morning. I can't handle it. Oh please, Daddy, come back, come back." Came the sarcastically begging answer that rocked House back in surprise. ****_Wow,_**** he thought. ****_She's been really sarcastic lately but this is new even for her…I'm proud of her._**

**"Oh…the new Cameron, complete with button on back to roll her eyes. Accessories sold separately. New…and interesting. Patient. Tell me why you felt so compelled to call me at" (he looked at his watch) "8 p.m. your time, 7 p.m. mine."**

**"Where are you?"**

**"PATIENT."**

**ANOTHER SIGH then Cameron listed the symptoms. By the time she was done he was intrigued…and glad she called, though he'd never admit that last part. After rattling off a list of tests he said, "You've interrupted my movie so I'm going to hang up now. Call me in the morning when you get the results…but call after 9:00. The night's still young and I probably won't be alone tomorrow morning. It would be rude to wake my guest." CLICK.**

**He sat back and watched, though the new patient had taken up residence in one part of his brain, teasing him while the actors were blowing each other up.**  
*********  
**The next morning House awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Looking at the clock he saw it was 9:00 Birmingham time. Rubbing his eyes he read the Caller ID and flipped open the phone. "Good job. She just left. Results?"**

**Cameron coughed. "Did I really need to know that?"**

**"No…but you needed to know it's good to obey Daddy. Results?" He could hear her eye-roll then she rattled off the desired information. When she was done, his head tilted…and he knew exactly what it was. Giving her the confirmation tests she coughed.**

**"Are you sure?"**

**"No…give me another day to re-evaluate my answer then get back to me. Just run the tests and call me back." CLICK. He stood up, grabbed his knapsack and headed to the bathroom.**  
*********  
**Just as he was leaving the check-out desk, his phone rang again.**

**"You were right." It was Foreman.**

**"That was a wasted sentence. Of course I was right. And why did you call me?"**

**"Because Cameron's unavailable. It seems the patient is a handsome 35-year-old with a cane and a bad disposition. She felt compelled to give the patient a sponge bath…and I think they have a date when he leaves the hospital." House chuckled. He really did miss PPTH and his children. Just as he was about to hang up, Foreman asked, "When were you going to inform us you were dying?"**

**House stopped, shocked. "Ok, which gossip told, Cuddy or Wilson?"**

**"None. I overheard the entire exchange when I went to Wilson for a consult. I was outside the door."**

**"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?"**

**Foreman chuckled. "And I do believe you failed to receive that memo yourself."**

**PAUSE. "What are you going to do about it?"**

**"Nothing. It's not my information to tell. I haven't said anything and I won't. But you'd better tell Chase and Cameron soon…especially Cameron. She's got to have time to weep and rend her garments."**

**"They'll learn in good time."**

**"You mean when you're on your death bed and Cuddy's interviewing for your position?"**

**"I've got to go."**

**"The patient will be discharged this afternoon. Bye House." CLICK. **

**House shut his phone and stood by his bike, absorbing what he'd learned. Of course he knew he had to tell them…he just didn't want to. Deciding to push it to the back of his mind he started the bike…**

**but the thought crept up once again as he sped down the highway…and he couldn't do a thing about it. It was there…and it would bug him until he got back to Princeton.**  
*********


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 **

**Day 6: Birmingham, AL to Ferriday, LA: 5 hours, 45 minutes; 361 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,479**

**Unfortunately for House, he was so preoccupied by current events (and the Shadow Rider/Mistress was taking up brain space by riding around his brain) he failed to realize he was running low on gas…until he came to a complete stop just outside of Ferriday, LA. Cursing loudly, he swung off the bike, removed his helmet and looked at Gregorio then jumped back.**

**He could've sworn he saw that bear's eyebrows rise.**

**"Don't start," he warned the bear. "Don't even give me that look. I'm preoccupied." Sighing because his life was so pathetic he was actually holding an argument with a teddy bear, he looked around. The country was tranquil…and isn't that a filling station about half a mile away?**

**But a half-mile to a person with two functioning legs was nothing; a half-mile to a snarky, three-legged misanthrope was more like five miles. Turning once more to the bear, he double-checked the padlock. Gregorio was secure. "Sit tight…I'll be back." **  
*********  
**By the time he reached the filling station he was huffing and puffing; his leg was throbbing; he was thirsty; and he had no friggin' idea where Ferriday, LA, was. Dry swallowing a Vicodin, he took time to rest and study the station's exterior: and almost laughed out loud.**

**It was a small building with cigarette, soda and beer stickers/advertisements/neon lights plastered everywhere; a bobble-head Elvis, clad in his signature white jumpsuit, sat in the window by the front doors; three gas pumps, each looking about 300 years old, were waiting to either be used or laid to rest; and a tired-looking Blood Hound on a chain shot him a look that said, "Does this chain REALLY look necessary? I barely have the energy to give you this look.".**

**Not seeing any other solution, since there wasn't another building within sight, he sighed, shook his head and limped-marched into the store. The inside was quite interesting as well: country music blared from a jukebox that looked even older than the gas pumps; a display, which overtook one corner of the small building, complete with a sign that read, "HAVE YOUR PICTURE TAKEN WITH ELVIS!" hung beside a faded, torn cardboard cutout of The King; and a small memorabilia shop, which consisted of two racks of Louisiana postcards, hundreds of shot glasses and a complete section devoted to "The King" memorabilia. **

**Limping to the counter, House didn't find anyone there but he did locate a desk bell. Smiling wickedly, he began punching that bell, thereby setting off a chain reaction: a bird from somewhere unseen squawked, "WE'RE BEIN' INVADED! EVASIVE ACTION!"; the old, tired hound let out such a mournful bay that could've signaled a death march from the local cemetery; a female yelled from out of nowhere, "DANG NABBIT JOHN! Get off your lazy butt and go help the customer!"; and the jukebox suddenly began playing, "Whose Sorry Now?" by Connie Francis. **

**While covering his ears against the ruckus…House was grinning from ear to ear. Now THIS was the mayhem he loved creating. ****_I ain't sorry Connie_****, he thought as he heard shuffling somewhere in front of him. A moment later a tall, about 6'4", lean man, in his mid-sixties, with a full-head of bushy white hair, even bushier white eyebrows, tired blue eyes and clean coveralls emerged from the curtained-off section behind the counter.**

**He smiled even, white teeth at House. "What can I do fow you siw?"**

**House just stared at the man for a moment...then had to fight to keep from laughing. **

**The poor guy's lisp made him sound exactly like Elmer Fudd.**

**Quickly regaining his composure, since he needed gas, House decided to be as nice as he possibly could. "Yes. I wan…" (COUGH) "…I mean, RAN out of gas about a half-mile down the road. I need to buy some."**

**Just as the man, John, opened his mouth to answer, the bird piped in behind them: "BE VEWY, VEWY QUIET; I'M HUNTING WABBITS**." House couldn't hold it in: he bent over and lost it, holding his side, trying very hard to regain his breath.

"Mewvin, you hush now!" He yelled into the curtain partition. "Mawgie, shut him up!" House snorted.

"Now, whewe awe you pawked?" Gasping for air, House was rubbing is eyes. Discovering he couldn't talk he just pointed in the direction of his bike. "Come on. We'ww take Big Bewtha. I've got a gas can and you can top off youw caw, then come back hewe and fiww it up." House just nodded, since he still couldn't breathe.

"Mawgie! I'm taking Big Bewtha and I'ww be back." He grabbed his keys and went around the corner of the counter. He stopped in front of House. "Don't wowwy. I know you can't hewp it. I actuawwy wike my voice…and it didn't stop me fwom mawwying the Homecoming Queen."

House looked at John with surprise…that just shattered his wrongful preconception of "nines belong with nines, fours with fours." "Really?" He was genuinely shocked. "Have you been here long?"

John shook his head. "We just took ovew fow my fathew-in-waw. I'm a wetiwed Awmy Dwiww Sewgeant."

Once House deciphered this his surprise was greatly increased. "Are you serious? How'd you manage that?"

John smiled again and, filling up a gas can, said, "When I'm yewwing my voice is nowmaw. Can I show you?" House nodded. John set the gas can down, stood up straight then marched into House's face: "DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY SOLDIER!" House's eyes widened and, if it hadn't been for his leg, he would've followed the older man's instruction. "Evewybody knew how tough I was but nevew knew about my wisp. When they did find out they wewe so afwaid I nevew heawd about one dewogatowy comment about mysewf." John paused, replaced the gas cap on the can then said, "So I guess nothing is quite as it appeaws, is it?"

_You got that right,_ he thought. He never pictured this man as a drill sergeant, but he certainly proved it. _And he certainly had respect._ House's remorse of his father came back…this man had something his father never did: respect for anyone.

And he didn't know if he'd ever learn it…

Hopefully it would be in the next five months…before House was gone.

*****  
Big Bertha, as it turns out, was a huge wrecker from the 1960s that ran better than his Honda Repsol. Quickly locating the motorcycle, John and House worked to fill it up, then House, followed by Bertha, pulled into the station and he topped the tank. House followed John inside, only to find a very beautiful blonde, mid-sixties, and a blue and yellow parrot sitting on her shoulder.

"Mw. House," John said and pointed to the bird. "This is Mewvin. Say hewwo."

"IT'S THE THREE LEGGED MAN! AWWK! AWWK!"

House rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a smart bird? Wouldn't you be more useful stuffed and mounted on the wall?"

"UH-HAH-HAH-HAH" House had to give that bird credit…Melvin had Elmer Fudd down pat.

"Mr. House," Margie began, "can I take your picture with Elvis?"

House was prepared to vehemently say no when Melvin began singing, "I'M ALL SHOOK UP, UH-HUH. BABY, I'M ALL SHOOK UP."

"He'ww keep singing untiw you agwee."

House rolled his eyes again. "Fine. One picture." Silently vowing to burn the picture after leaving town, he began to leave then turned back to Margie. "Where's the nearest hotel?"

"Go down the highway about 5 miles. Best Western and Comfort Inn are right there. You can't miss them."

Though he was never one to say thank you…he found himself saying it: "Thank you for your help."

John smiled. "That was vewy difficuwt, wasn't it?" When House didn't answer, he nodded. "I know. I'm just hewe to hewp. Have a safe twip."

House easily located the Best Western and checked in. Ordering pizza delivery, he became thoughtful, contemplating the encounter he just had.

He really was wrong about certain things, wasn't he?

_**That was painful to admit, wasn't it?**_His "good old friend", Mr. Conscience, was paying another visit.

_**And they seem so happy…despite his lisp.**_

_**Surprise, surprise. You don't have to be perfect to be happy. In fact, it's those most flawed that are the happiest.**_

_**That makes no sense.**_

_**And that's why you aren't happy. Spend too much time analyzing you'll completely miss out.**_

House smiled to himself._**And that includes my conscience. Good night.**_


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16, Part 1**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

The next morning House left Ferriday around 9:00, heading towards Dallas. It was an original destination he'd planned since the beginning of the trip, a trip that had seen many twists and turns, change of plans and surprises in its short time span.

He'd never been on a trip like this before...come to think of it, had he ever really been on a trip before? Sure, he and Stacy would go on overnight jaunts to cities...but they were usually for her work. And they weren't fun.

Perhaps for the first time in his life he was actually having fun: the kind of fun where you pee your pants with laughter; the kind of fun where you don't mind the loud, obnoxious children all around you and the expensive hotel rooms suddenly don't matter so much. And he didn't want it to end in two weeks. In fact, he was having so much fun he decided to extend his trip longer...and he would call Cuddy as soon as he settle in Dallas. After all, what's the worst that could happen...she'd FIRE him? He was already dying...what more could anyone else do?

Besides, he usually got whatever he wanted from her...except sex. Try as he may, in the early years, he feverishly, aggressively worked to get her to submit...but she wouldn't. Soon it got old and making sexist jokes and remarks became the only way to deal.

And now, after all these years, he didn't want to sleep with her; just couldn't do it. It would be like sleeping with...his sister, though he was an only child. That's just wrong...even HE had certain standards.

So, he'd just call her up and say he was extending his trip for indefinite period of time. And she'd just have to deal with it.

He pulled into Dallas at around 3:30. Finding a Marriott this time (variety is good), he checked in and flopped on the bed, stretching out his long legs and popping a cancer pain pill. Turning to Gregorio, who was holding up very well considering all his time spent at the back of the motorcycle, he sighed. "Ok, Gregorio my boy. It's time to call the Boss Lady."

Flipping open his cell phone he dialed her number.

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

"Ah, there's my favorite pair of funbags. Miss me?"

PAUSE. "House? Why are you calling? The kids don't have a case; there's nothing going on here. What's wrong?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Why must something be wrong for me to call? What if this were a friendly call?"

"Is it?"

House paused. "It was a hypothetical question."

"Because your calls are never friendly ones. Do you even know what a friendly call is?"

He gasped. "You wound me lady. You wound me real bad."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?"

"Ok, fine. I'll tell you. I'm going to be gone more than two weeks."

"EXCUSE ME?!? You never take vacation and here you are, all of the sudden, TELLING me you're taking more time. Besides, you can't do that."

"What do you mean, "You can't do that."? Of course I can do that. What are you going to do...fire me? I'm already dying."

SILENCE. "We're all dying. We begin dying the moment we're born. Remember that supervisor-subordinate relationship we're SUPPOSED to be having? For once I'm invoking my rights as your employer to say NO."

House smiled. "Oh, the power tastes so sweet, doesn't it? See, you WANT me to be happy, to be gone longer...but you can't help yourself. You've got to wield that power over me. That's why your breasts are constantly on display. They're like a red cape in front of a bull, taunting him, saying, "Lookie no Touchie. These girls hold the power." No wonder they call you Attila the Hun."

"They do not call me Attila the Hun."

"They will when I get back."

SIGH. "Fine. One more week."

"Not good enough. It has to be indefinite. That way, when I magically appear, you can be in awe of my magical disappearing/reappearing powers."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she attempted to hold back her laughter. What she never told anyone was how much she thoroughly enjoyed sparring with the Hospital Ogre. Finally able to compose herself, she sighed dramatically and said, "Fine."

"Great. And kiss the girls hello from me." CLICK.

House clicked off and his stomach no longer hurt. In fact, he had more energy than he'd had in a long time. Sparring with Cuddy always made him feel good. He decided to give the nightlife another spin...and this time would keep a more level head.

But first...he looked down and his rumpled, dirty clothes would never work. He was going shopping.  
*****

**Chapter 16, Part 2**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

An hour later he left Nordstrom's wearing a new pair of Levis', already faded to perfection; royal-blue Diesel t-shirt; a semi-wrinkled (since he INSISTED on wearing it out of the store) Tommy Hilfiger royal-blue, gray and white plaid oxford shirt, untucked; his riding boots and his black leather motorcycle jacket. Feeling rather confident in himself, he half-strutted, half-limped, to his motorcycle. Looking at his watch, it was 5:30.

Time to hit the social scene.

About five miles away he found a cozy little piano bar/bistro. Parking, he strolled in and a pretty blond hostess seated him in a corner booth. Once he'd received his Scotch he sat back and took in the atmosphere, carefully surveying his surroundings. After what happened in Atlanta, he didn't want to be taken completely off guard.

Dallas wasn't bad...what he saw of it anyway. The people seemed friendly; the climate hot; and the nightlife even hotter. He scanned the diners, most of them couples speaking in low tones, smiling and laughing at private jokes.

His perusal of the establishment came to a screeching halt when he encountered a table catty-corner to his. Seated were a couple and another woman: the couple was obviously married, if their body language was any judge.

But it was the friend that stopped House, so much so he was practically slammed back in his seat, the force of her was so great.

He was absolutely floored...the woman looked exactly like Stacy.

She wore a short, black, skirt-suit, red knit top and strappy black heels. Tall, around 5'9" with long, flowing, dark, almost black, hair that she flipped as she laughed at something the man said. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled in the track lighting illuminating above her, her red lips vibrant against the straight whiteness of her teeth.

And her legs...he suddenly felt himself grow uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat as he stared at the sexiest pair of legs he'd ever seen. Long, lean, shapely, smooth...and sans nylons. He smiled...he hated when women wore nylons. Suddenly she uncrossed and recrossed them...and the room instantly grew very hot.

He then saw the tattoo on her outside right ankle: it was the NY Yankees baseball symbol. His head tilted inquisitively: he'd never seen that before. His eyes slowly skimmed back up the legs to the table...and caught the gold flash of the wedding band on her left hand. He sighed. He didn't believe in adultery...or so he told himself.

Oh, but how quickly had he forgotten Atlanta Rochelle.

_**But that's different...I didn't know she was married.**_

His conscience wouldn't accept this. _**Doesn't matter. You shouldn't be having one night stands IN THE FIRST PLACE, married or unmarried women alike. Don't believe in adultery? Hogwash! To you sex is sex. Besides, it WAS adultery that night with Stacy.**_

_**No...that was unfinished business,**___he volleyed back. _**And excuse me?!? Sex isn't just sex...not all the time. I was remorseful after Atlanta. I didn't want to do that.**_

_**That was not unfinished business. If it was, you wouldn't be ready to sleep with this complete stranger just because she looks like Stacy. And you were NOT remorseful because you felt you did anything wrong with Atlanta Rochelle: you were upset because she used you. Just like YOU use everyone around you. Face it House: you're an addict. And not just pills. Booze, sex...CONTROL. An addict is an addict is an addict. I know you...and you can't lie to your conscience. It doesn't work that way.**___

He was infuriated because he wanted to take his conscience outside and beat the crap out of it. _**Unresolved issues my eye,**___he thought...then felt a sudden twinge of guilt....a feeling that had been happening more and more lately.

_**Perhaps he's right...maybe I am attracted to her because she's so much like Stacy.**_

Suddenly deciding to hang the consequences (even if it meant a beating by Mr. Hot Legs), House mentally kicked the soapbox out from under his conscience. Standing over it (metaphorically speaking, of course), he screamed at his conscience as it lay on the ground, _**CAN IT. I've heard enough from you right now.**_

His baby blues finally lifted back to her face...and violently collided with the milk chocolate orbs of the leg's owner. She'd caught him checking her out. _**Uh-oh**_, he thought...and that wasn't his conscience this time. He knew he should look away but, try as he may, he just couldn't remove his blues from her browns. Just as he'd found the strength to try...

she smiled. Just for him.

Without a second thought he smirked and even winked. She tilted her head, studied him a moment then leaned forward toward the rest of her party, whispering. They looked his direction, the other woman smiling when she saw him. The gorgeous brunette uncrossed her legs once more, grabbed her Corona and stood up, making her way the short distance to his table.  
*****

**Chapter 16, Part 3**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

The woman noticed him the minute he walked into the bistro. She'd have been BLIND to have missed him…this scruffily-handsome man with the cane just didn't seem to mix well with the atmosphere. She'd watched as Natalie the hostess led the man with the heavy limp to his table.

He was tall, about 6'3"; late 40s; amazingly long, lean, fit body, which was only improved (as if THAT were possible) by the black leather motorcycle jacket, royal blue t-shirt, faded-to-perfection Levis' and black leather motorcycle boots. His hair was thinning and graying…but who cares? With a body like that, hair wasn't a major issue.

The face was interesting. Scruff-covered and worn, evidence of a hard-lived life. The age lines around the face in no way detracted from his looks; if anything they made him much more handsome, much more interesting. It wasn't until he sat that she saw his most outstanding feature: huge, sparkling, cyan-blue eyes that she guessed pierced, penetrated, saw past whatever camouflage one tried to hide behind.

For some reason this very happily married woman of 44 looked at someone other than her husband…then immediately hated herself for it.

Perhaps it had been the events of the day that made her vulnerable to this intoxicating stranger…

It'd just been a crappy day from the beginning…first at home then at the bank. The dogs got in a fight before work; the Tommelsons yelled at her because their loan fell through; her co-worker, Wendy the Whiner, wouldn't shut up about her loser boyfriend; and, to top it off, her son's insane girlfriend took off with his prized 1964 restored Corvette, leaving only a note stating she was becoming a nun in Mexico and needed to sell the car to feed the hungry.

When the clock hit 5:00, she was out of there. She'd immediately driven to the bistro, which her husband Jack owned and operated. He'd taken one look at her and handed her a Corona, then took her in his arms. A half an hour later, after finishing her explanation of her crappy day, she was sitting with her best friend Robin and her husband, Dennis, and Jack was playing the piano. She saw how tense he was…he was a very sensitive guy and felt very keenly the emotions and turmoil happening in his family.

And playing the piano was his release.

So, here they are: a tired, frustrated but happily-married woman, flirting with a man who so obviously was just passing through Dallas…and what was she doing now?? Going to his table?? _**Oh boy,**_ she thought as she continued toward him, despite the protests coming from her brain. _**What are you doing?? It's too late now…you're almost at his table. Don't act nervous or you're bait. Let him know where you stand.**_ She gave herself a mental head slap. _**Why hasn't Robin or Dennis stopped me? And what in blue blazes are you doing now??**_ She repeated the question to herself…

But it was still unanswered when she advanced toward his table.  
*****

As she approached he saw how lean and shapely she was, the supple curve of her hips; the small waist; the swell of the ample bust. She stopped at his table and stood opposite him. "Howdy stranger."

But the biggest surprise of all…her Brooklyn accent?!? _**Well, that explains the tattoo**__._

"You're a long way from home," House said, leaning over to study her. She smiled.

"So are you." They took a moment to study the other: Baby Blues appreciating the scene in front of them; Chocolate Browns guarded but…reluctantly…open to making new friends. She pointed to the chair. "May I?"

"Of course." Once she sat he held out his hand. "Greg House."

"Greg _House_? That's quite a name." Chocolate Brown paused, still evaluating him, then shook his hand. "Laura Bower. Welcome to Texas. Where ya from stranger?" She couldn't quite place the accent. It sounded like he'd done his fair share of traveling.

"Princeton, New Jersey."

She grinned even bigger. "Oh, a Joysey boy. Don't get many of your kind down this way."

"I could say the same about you," he said with a smile. She smirked, recognizing the double-meaning.

"You don't date much do you? Practicing on married women before diving into the snake pit?" She deliberately took a slow drag from her Corona, practically waving her wedding band to remind him she was off limits.

He smirked himself but ignored the comments. "So what does Mr. Bower say about his beautiful young wife drinking in this establishment without him?" He watched her and knew she'd intentionally waved that ring. And, perhaps in the back of his mind, he knew she wouldn't compromise her marriage for a fling with him.

_**But what could it hurt to find out?**_

And he heard, in the back of his mind, his conscience clearing his throat then saying, _**WHAT COULD IT HURT? What's wrong with you? Are you some kind of man-whore? You only want her because**_ _**SHE REMINDS YOU OF STACY…and you've never gotten over Stacy. You are so pathetic…if you would just listen to me you wouldn't have these problems. But NOOOOO. Once again you're obviously NOT thinking with your brain. And now you're considering breaking up the marriage, of a complete stranger, because she reminds you of the past?? That's just brilliant House…you idiot.**_

Meanwhile, Laura's eyebrow went up at the "young" part. She didn't consider herself young, though she was always mistaken for being much younger than her 44 years. He was feeding her a load of bologna masked in a pretty package…and she knew it. Why was he doing this? She didn't know. But she saw something in his eyes…almost a recognition...perhaps she reminded him of someone, someone he'd lost long ago.

Despite her feelings of guilt for approaching this sexy stranger in the first place, Laura Bower knew how to handle men. After all, you didn't look like Laura Bower and NOT know how to handle men. It took practice. And Laura was good at it.

"I don't know…you can ask him yourself. He's the piano player." Laura asked and tilted her head again at his sudden flash of interest mixed with distraction. House looked around but couldn't see either husband or piano. She stood up, grabbed her Corona and said, "Come on." Nodding, House stood up, grabbed his cane and Scotch and came to stand beside Laura.

House wanted to see this "husband" in action. He was dying to know what type of man Laura went for…and if he could really play the piano. _**She better watch out. If he sucks…she'll be coming home with me tonight,**_he reasoned…and this reasoning made his gait much quicker, even though he was thoroughly distracted by the way her butt looked in that short skirt.

And his conscience turned over that soapbox, marched on top and screamed at the top of his lungs, _**HOME WRECKER!**_  
*****

**Chapter 15, Part 4**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

Laura led House through the maze of tables to a black, shiny grand piano which sat on a platform just large enough for the enormous piano and its player. Seated on the piano bench adorned with a plush red cushion was the man in question, who'd drawn quite a crowd with his rendition of "Piano Man" by Billy Joel.

Jack Bower was around 50 years old; 6'2"; clean-shaven and very well built: not overly muscular but well defined, as apparent by the fit of the red polo shirt and navy blue khakis. His strawberry blonde hair held hints of gray and white; his skin was slightly tanned and freckly; his eyes a welcoming hazel.

Turning his head at their approach, as if his "Laura" radar was working, he spotted his wife standing with a tall, handsome man with a cane. It if had been 25 years previous, Jack would've had a problem with this...he really hated sharing…and still did.

But age, family and the patient, loving-kindness of his wife had mellowed that boy with a short fuse. Now he was much more laid back; cool; confident. Laura knew the short fuse was still there, lurking just under the surface…waiting for just the right spark to ignite it.  
*****

House could see he had no chance with Laura.

But he wasn't through…not by a long shot.

_**HOME WRECKER! HOME WRECKER!**_

_**SHUT UP!**_

_*******  
**_When Jack finished and the applause died down, Laura stepped closer to her husband. "Jack, honey, this is Greg House. Greg, this is my husband, Jack Bower."

House smirked. "Jack _Bower_? You're not in counterterrorism, are you?"

It was Jack's turn to smirk. "That's my weekend job. This one actually pays the bills." And thus began the pissing match: _who was better than the other?_ Still studying the younger man, Jack asked, "So how do you know Laura?"

"He was flirting with me from another table." Laura smiled mischievously at her husband; her husband's eyebrows rose; and House groaned.

Shooting Laura a death glare, who just winked at him back, House turned to the piano. "This is a nice piano," House said, admiring the sleek lines of the polished wood, the long, clean keys of the keyboard.

"Do you play?" Laura asked.

House removed his eyes from the instrument and looked at Jack, though addressing Laura. "A little."

Jack smirked. "Then how about a contest, to see who is the better player."

Laura frowned and looked at her husband. "Are you sure? Do you know what you're doing?"

Still watching House, Jack smiled and nodded. "What? Do you doubt my ability? I know what I'm doing. And better still: Mr. House, you can name the terms of the contest…or should I call you Greg?"

House watched the other man, trying to read him…but Jack was as stoic as a…he couldn't think of any examples. Ok, Jack was as stoic as a man could get. But House was NEVER one to back down from a challenge. He grinned. "Ok. If you win I'll buy drinks for everyone here."

Jack nodded and everyone within earshot clapped and cheered. The other diners and bistro staff who were out of earshot began whispering, grabbing for information, anxious to know what was happening. "And if you win?"

House, for the first time since meeting Jack, looked at Laura and smiled. "If I win, I go on a date with Laura."

**THUNK**. House's conscience just fainted, shattering the soapbox into hundreds of pieces.  
*****

**Chapter 15, Part 5**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

A murmur went through the crowd; Laura looked at House, horrified; Jack stared at him dumbly; and House couldn't help but look smug.

"You can't be serious," Laura said.

"Of course I'm serious. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? If I lose, everyone gets drinks and you make money."

"And if you win?" Jack asked...and Laura could see the end of his fuse becoming hot. _Uh-oh,_ she thought. _This won't be good._

"If I win..." he looked at Laura. "If I win, we go on a date."

"A contest to see who's the best piano player?!? There's absolutely no way to judge that. This isn't a sport; there are no clear cut rules." Laura said, incredulous. "Who's going to be the judge? You? Jack? The audience?"

"I'll judge," a man seated about three tables away said. He stood up and came over to the piano.

"Who are you?" House asked and suddenly began to get nervous. He had thought that, by presenting this contest, he could somehow design it so he'd have the upper hand. And now? This was quite a wrench in his plan.

"Harold Williams. I teach piano at Texas Tech here in Dallas."

House rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, isn't that convenient? Do you keep piano experts on hand for just such an occasion?" Harold, being the sane, levelheaded, NICE man he was, just let these questions go.

Jack smiled and held out his hand to Harold. "Nice to meet you. Welcome to my fine restaurant."

As much as Laura hated this contest, she at least wanted it to be fair. "Jack, stop it. This is going to be a fair contest: no promising Harold a free meal if he swings the result your way. Harold, how many are in your party?"

"Just my wife and I."

"In appreciation for judging this ludicrous contest, dinner and drinks are on the house for you and your wife...no matter who wins," Laura said. Turning back to the guys, she said, "Ok, since we are talking about ME here, _I_ get to make the rules:

Rule 1: Each of you will play the same three songs, all of which are of Harold's choosing. We have tons of sheet music here and, Harold, you will suggest the songs. If we have the music and you need it, feel free. If we don't have the music but you need it we won't use that song." She turned to Harold. "Is that ok?" He nodded.

"Rule 2: When you're done, Harold will write the winner's name on a sheet of paper...and the next person to walk through that front door" and she pointed "will be asked to read the name off the paper." She eyed both men. "Got it?"

A look of part dismay (for not being able to cheat) but mostly challenge **because** they couldn't cheat befell both men's faces...but neither were about to give in, no matter how arrogant or angry they were. Laura always knew her husband was competitive...but wasn't this type of competition reserved for JUNIOR HIGH?? Besides, she didn't quite know what to think about it. After all, they were, essentially, gambling for her...and she didn't have a thing to say about it.

"Now you two boys shake on it and we'll get this thing over with," Laura instructed and each shook, eyes silently challenging the other to just try and beat him. Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "men" and left the scene, thoroughly disgusted.

As she walked away, she couldn't help but wonder why Greg House was doing this. They didn't know each other; they probably wouldn't see one another again. She then thought about that look in his eyes the moment their eyes first met. It was as if he'd seen a ghost...perhaps she was a ghost of someone he'd once loved and lost? Or maybe she reminded him of someone who was (and perhaps still was) very dear to him...and if Greg House won tonight she would find out.

Fifteen minutes later, the songs were chosen. Ironically both musicians knew the first songs chosen. During this time the entire restaurant had been buzzing with the excitement...and placed bets with the bartenders, which was rather interesting since nobody actually knew House or his abilities. However, the pot had grown to over $2,000, with the odds being 7/1 in favor of Jack. This, of course, only spurred the musicians on, driving them to concentrate more on their songs...

and less on what they were doing to Laura.

As House was flexing his musical muscle, guess who woke up?

_**DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'RE DOING?**_

_**I thought you fainted.**_

_**I'm up now. This must be one of the stupidest, most moronic things you've ever done...and that's saying a lot for an idiot who does stupid, moronic things everyday.**_

_**Leave me alone...I'm trying to concentrate.**_

_**Fine...if you need me I'll be in the whirlpool, contemplating how much WASTED energy I've expended on you.**_

_**You mean, like what you're doing right now? Buh-bye.**_

It was time to begin. The restaurant was completely silent and every chair faced the piano. The first song was "What'd I Say" by Ray Charles and Jack was first.

The moment he began House instantly regretted the bet. While he had heard the brilliance of the "Piano Man" rendition earlier, he was absolutely blown away by Jack's talent. _This is going to be a LOT harder than I'd planned. Damn._ When Jack was finished, he smiled brilliantly and bowed for the crowd, whose decibel level increased with every second. Once they'd finally calmed (and additional bets had been taken, making the pot over $3,000 and the odds 9/1 against House), it was House's turn.

Nodding slightly as he passed Jack to the piano, he caught Laura's critical eye and winked. He frowned when she didn't move: not one flinch, not one flutter, not even exasperated breathing. Shaking it off, he sat down, cracked his knuckles and, placing his long, muscular fingers on the keys, gently caressed them, savoring the feeling of the keys of the grand piano underneath his fingertips. It was positively sensual, bringing back memories of making love to his first true love, the feel of her under his fingers...and his heart felt it would burst. Harnessing this energy through his arms and to his fingers, he began slowly, softly...then quickly hit the first crescendo. Closing his eyes, he felt the song crash through his core, moving with the music, pouring himself into each note.

By the time he was done he removed his fingers...

and heard not one peep from the audience. Frowning he opened his eyes and looked around to find the entire restaurant in dead silence, their mouths open in awe, staring at him. In the back someone began clapping...which began the avalanche of applause for the snarky doctor. Quickly the odds turned to 5/1 that HOUSE would win...and the pot jumped to over $5,000!

Standing up, he looked at Laura first...and she'd moved since he last saw her. In fact, her mouth was agape and she looked from him to the piano and back to him. Speechless, she imitated her eye movement with her right index finger then threw her hands up in defeat. He winked again then turned to Jack...who'd gone a bit pale. Just to make things worse, House grabbed his cane, walked to Jack and asked, "Are you ok buddy? You don't look so good."

"Fine." Jack growled, causing House to jump back and Laura to gasp. She'd only seen him this infuriated once...and things hadn't been good for the other party involved.

Things were about to get very interesting...

For the next half hour, it was very intense. They'd each played two more songs: "And So It Goes" by Billy Joel; and "Johnny B. Goode" by Chuck Berry.

In the end, each had played spectacularly...and the pot finally reached $10,000, with the odds being 2/1 there'd be a tie. The race was so close it was just too hard to tell.

In fact, ten minutes after Jack finished playing "Johnny B. Goode", Harold was still staring at the piano, his mind clearly working out this dilemma. He wasn't about to call a tie. The room continued humming with excitement; the swallowing of wine and other drinks; the scratching of utensils against china; and the clinking of glasses by the bartenders.

All this activity suddenly stopped when Harold stood up and moved to the piano, sitting on the still-warm bench. For five minutes Harold did nothing but rock in his seat, his eyes closed, his fingers lightly touching the keys. And the diners were completely enthralled. Suddenly he sat up straight, turned away from everyone, took out the sheet of paper and, hiding it, wrote down his verdict. This reignited the whispers, but they weren't about to break into an uproar...only when the name (or a tie) was read could they react.

Turning to the crowd, he folded the sheet and stood up. Looking at Laura, he said, "I've chosen." There was a collective draw of breath and Laura walked over to Harold. Taking his arm, she lead the weary judge to the front door, where they'd await the next person to walk through the door. House and Jack started toward them but Laura turned and held her hand up. Pointing to the stage, she ordered, "Both of you, wait over there." Both men stared at her with wide eyes, then quickly nodded and returned to the stage: House sitting on the bench, Jack in a chair a patron had brought up to the platform, bracing themselves for the next series of events.

They didn't have to wait long.

Five minutes later the door opened and there was soft talking but only those doing the talking knew what was happening...or who the patron was. Within moments Laura and Harold reappeared...and House's eyes widened with surprise.

It was the Black Shadow Rider...

only this time, instead of her black biker get-up, she was wearing hip-hugging Diesel jeans; a snug forest green t-shirt that hugged every curve; and black patent-leather ballerina slippers. Her auburn hair, accentuated by the forest green t-shirt, was pinned up with loose, wavy tendrils falling around her face and neck. Her make-up was subtle but very flattering.

When House regained his breath after this vision (not just the fact that the Black Shadow Rider was going to read the result...but that t-shirt was really doing things to him) he narrowed his eyes, pointed to her and said, "YOU!?! You're stalking me!"

She smiled and stepped closer, ignoring the fact his eyes were going south along her body. She tilted her head. "Hello stranger." The Black Shadow Rider speaks! Even her VOICE was a surprise to House...low with a hint of gravely and a honey lilt on the edges. She turned back to Laura who was surveying the scene with a twinge of interest.

Meanwhile the entire crowd was engrossed with the soap opera enfolding in front of them. Laura turned to the crowd who collectively turned to her. "Everyone, this is Anne Donaldson. Anne, this is Greg House," she pointed to him and Anne grinned wider, "and this is my husband Jack. Anne, I explained we were having a contest and that you, as the next patron to walk through the door, would read the result. And Harold is holding the paper. Only he knows. It's time, Harold. We'd like to thank you for your expertise and..."

"JUST GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!" a male patron screamed from the back.

Laura smiled. "OK, Harold, you heard the man. Let's get on with it." Harold handed the paper to Anne.

She made quite a show of opening it and, with the best poker face on the planet, read aloud, "Greg House".  
*****

**Chapter 15, Part 6**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

At Anne's announcement, the crowd broke into applause; House looked at Laura; Laura looked at Jack; and Jack looked infuriated. With his face turning bright red and veins popping out at his forehead, Jack stood up and walked off the stage to a back door. Laura sighed and went after him…and House looked at Anne, then at the door Laura exited through.

"What's this all about?" Anne asked to anyone willing to answer.

"Greg challenged Jack to a contest of who played the piano better." Harold answered. "My wife and I just happened to be here tonight and they needed someone to judge the contest. I volunteered because I teach piano at Texas Tech. The conditions were if Jack won, Greg would buy everyone drinks. If Greg won," Harold rolled his eyes. "If Greg won he would take Jack's wife Laura on a date."

Anne's mouth dropped. "Let me get this straight: Greg's taking Jack's wife out on a date?" Harold nodded. Anne looked at Greg who, by this time, was watching their conversation. "You must have some set of…" she looked down his body, "…some…thing to pull off a stunt this moronic, idiotic and just plain insane."

House turned fully to Anne. "You forgot egotistical." He narrowed his eyes. "And you're one to talk. Who's the one following me all over creation? Either you've got way too much time on your hands or you're a psychotic stalker."

Deciding to play it cool, though what she really wanted to do was throttle him, Anne lifted an eyebrow and moved closer to House who stood a good foot taller than herself. Looking up, she placed her left hand on her hip and her right behind her neck. Sighing she began. "Mr. Home…"

He interrupted her. "The name's House."

Smirking she said, "Ok, Homie," his eyebrow raised. "I won't defend myself to a perfect stranger. And why am I even arguing with you?"

He smirked then made an exaggerated perusal of her chest, avoiding her question. "That's really a great t-shirt. Emphasizes the girls mighty nicely." She smirked. "I bet you've even named them: Flip" (he pointed to the left one) "and Flop?" (then the right one) She rolled her eyes.

"I got tattoos of their names…do you mind looking?" She snarked, matching his snark beat for beat. House's eyebrows lifted again, happy she was up to his challenge.

"Why don't you go out with Anne instead of Laura?" Harold asked, suddenly feeling the need to interrupt the confrontation. "She's single and you obviously like her." Both Anne and House looked at Harold in horror but, before House could come back with a snarkful retort, Laura came back, carrying her purse and car keys. Approaching the group she looked at Greg.

"If we leave right now, maybe he won't kill you…but he's not even talking to me. That's never happened. I think you did a bad, bad thing." Laura said and, with a nod to both Harold and Anne, moved to the door. House repeated Laura's movement at Harold then turned to Anne. Lowering his voice he said, "I'll probably see you around, huh?"

She smiled, catching House a bit off track by the beauty it brought to her face. "Probably." She stepped off the platform in the direction of the front door then turned back to him. "And great job at breaking up their marriage. You were so good one would think you've had practice." And, with that, she left.

For once House was actually stumped. And his conscience used this weak moment to whisper…

_**Smooth move buddy. Quite the ladies man, huh?**_

He suddenly felt something he hadn't in many years…guilt.

And he hated it.

They took Laura's car to an Italian restaurant down the road. When they were seated and their wine was poured, Laura looked House straight in the eye and asked, "I remind you of someone. What's her name?"

He ignored her, choosing instead to study the menu. "What's good here?"

Laura grimaced and slammed first her menu, then her flattened palm, on the table, causing him to rock back in his chair. "Don't beat around the bush. She must've been amazing if you felt the need to put my marriage in jeopardy."

"You put it in jeopardy the moment you uncrossed those incredible legs, got up and walked to my table." He stared her down…and realized how tough she really was. She wasn't backing down. Seeing the fury in her glare, he realized he'd probably just better come clean. _**She might actually deserve to hear the truth.**_

He finally admitted, to himself, it wasn't Laura he really wanted…it was what she symbolized, a time gone by. He wanted his life back, the life he had before the cancer. He wanted his same-ole routine back, the only outside force he trusted. The time he had with Stacy was the ideal, the one good time. _**What was the harm in reliving that?**_

Sighing he put the menu down, folded his hands atop it and looked her straight in the eye. "Stacy." He paused. "I'm a doctor in Princeton, New Jersey and I'm on a cross-country motorcycle trip because…" he stopped again to gauge her reaction…and, seeing absolutely nothing, he continued.

But he didn't want to. He did believe she deserved the truth, but he didn't want to continue because, by saying _"I'm dying"_ aloud, it became a reality. The longer he refused to say anything, the longer he could convince himself it was a terrible mistake or just some horrible nightmare. "…a month ago I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. They gave me six months…actually, five months now." He looked down and missed seeing the fury instantly lift from her eyes and quickly being replaced with sorrow for a life about to end.

He face-palmed, rubbing his eyes. Maybe by rubbing them everything would become clear. Or not. "Years ago, Stacy and I met, moved in together, and were happy. At least I thought we were happy. Then my leg happened…and Stacy and I were no longer. It ended very badly and she left me. A year ago she came back, new husband in tow. He was sick; I diagnosed and treated him…and the feelings I'd labored to suppress simply intensified. We had one night…then I sent her away." He knew he said too much so he left it there. Finally looking at Laura, she saw understanding mixed with sorrow.

Nodding she lifted her wine glass and took a sip. "Ok, I get that. You still want her, don't you?" By the way he lifted his glass and chugged it down, she had her answer. "I would ask you if you could just let it go but you mentioned you diagnosed her husband's illness. Is that what you do?" He nodded. "Then it's safe to assume that, as a diagnostician, you just can't let anything go. And you haven't let this go. I hate to tell you, honey, but you need to let it go. There's a good chance she's not coming back.

So, here you are, about to die, holding on to something that should've been dealt with years ago when she left the first time. Not only are you holding on but you're also running from it. You must be quite a man to be able to do both." He smirked at her but didn't say anything. "Didn't you know that running, or in your case, motorcycle riding, from your problem will only make it worse?"

She paused. "And just now was the first time you admitted you're dying. Am I right?" His silence continued. "You are very good at avoidance and I bet, as the handsome doctor you are, you have a colleague that has a crush on you but you completely avoid any dealings with that." House allowed himself to look genuinely surprised. She smiled. "What a great game you've set up for yourself. And I bet you've got enough people psychoanalyzing you all day, every day, that you really don't need me to say anything." He actually looked relieved. She smiled. "How do you feel about me now?"

"Honestly?"

"Let's try that."

"It's different now. I actually…feel…GUILTY." He visibly, dramatically, shuddered.

She studied him. "New feeling?"

He nodded. "I really wasn't out to wreck your marriage." _**Liar, liar, pants on fire.**_ He coughed and squirmed. "Ok, that's not completely true. I set out to…I mean, I…just…" he was stammering because another feeling overtake him…fear. He was afraid of how she'd react.

"…wanted to recapture what you had with Stacy?" She finished for him and he nodded. "What made you change your mind?"

"The look on Jack's face when he lost. And I would've felt just fine if I hadn't started listening to my conscience. The damn thing's just been annoying me…it never shuts UP."

Laura laughed and shook her head. "Welcome to mankind. I have a feeling you've been gone a long time."

He face-palmed once again and she sighed. "Look, Greg, I understand what you did but I don't approve, AT ALL. I still hate what you've done. Now…I don't know what to do about Jack."

"What about Jack?" Both diners turned to another voice coming from another booth. Jack stood up and approached, studying them curiously. House and Laura gasped then sucked in a breath, waiting for the inevitable chewing out session…but Jack didn't do anything, just stared at them both.

Laura gulped then pointed to another chair. "Jack, why don't you join us?" Jack nodded solemnly, sitting down.

_**Oh boy**__,_ House thought. _**This**__** should be interesting…**_

*****

**Chapter 15, Part 7**

**Day 7: Ferriday, LA to Dallas, TX: 6 hours; 366 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 1,845**

"Look, House," Jack said, settling in the seat closest his wife, slinging his arm around the back of her chair. "I heard your conversation." By his choice of words, Jack was challenging House, needing to see if he'd flinch. If his sob story were a ruse in an attempt to seduce his wife, Jack would easily pick up on it…and he'd quickly diffuse the situation.

But to Jack's amazement, House's sorrowful expression didn't change with the declaration; at least, not in the way he thought it would. If anything, it became sadder…and Jack instantly knew House was being completely honest. Gulping, Jack didn't do or say anything else…but looked at his wife in apology.

And what Jack saw in her beautiful pools of melted chocolate set his heart beating faster: Laura was watching him with excitement. She had the look of a heroine meeting her hero for the first time after returning from a LONG battle. _**Funny**__,_ he thought as he studied her, _**but it looks like my following them to the restaurant was the best thing I could've done. Why's it suddenly very warm in here?**_

Coughing, he cleared his throat. "What is it Laura? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You came here to spy on us, didn't you?" Laura asked.

"You know, spying is very rude." House broke out of his pity party to interject, glaring at Jack. "This is OUR date."

"With MY wife."

"That I won fair and square." The boys continued glaring at each other, which, needless to say, broke the hero-heroine worship moment.

Laura rolled her eyes. "ENOUGH! This pissing match has gone on long enough. Yes, Greg won the battle…" House smirked and Jack groaned, "…but Jack's won the war." Jack removed his eyes from his competition and looked at his wife. "Jack, do you want to know why I went over to Greg's table?" Jack looked ready to say no but she held her hand up to stop him. "Greg was flirting…and at first, I didn't know why I went to his table. My body just moved in his direction. I've since realized it was the way he was watching me. He made me feel like a woman again; he made me feel I was attractive and desirable again. I haven't had that in a long time."

House nodded enthusiastically. "You're a knockout: from those amazing legs to that gorgeous hair."

Jack opened his mouth to protest the nerve of this man describing his wife in such a manner but she handled the situation by turning to House and saying, "Zip it lover boy. You've done enough, thank you very much."

Turning back to her husband she said, taking his hand, "We've become so absorbed in our every day life: the restaurant; the kids; so many other things that we don't take enough intimate time to appreciate why we are together. I've suddenly misplaced my primal identity: it's been hiding behind titles like "MOM"; "WIFE"; "BANK OFFICER". I just want you to see again who I am, primitively speaking. I am "WOMAN" and when you followed and spied on us, I knew you'd seen it again and that you hadn't forgotten. I knew you wanted this "WOMAN"…your "WOMAN"." She leaned to the side and took Jack's mouth with hers, their moans making House suddenly uncomfortable in the crowded restaurant.

"Excuse me…" he said yet their kisses intensified, their hands beginning to roam. "Excuse me!" he repeated louder but they were too far gone for mere words. So, sighing and rolling his eyes, House picked up his water glass and, standing over them, dumped it on their heads. They pulled away and sputtered, grabbing napkins to wipe up the mess. Greg watched them then exclaimed, "Oh, would you two just get a room? This date is over; the moment is ruined. What a killjoy to find your date kissing another man. Go," he made a shooing gesture with both hands, "find a sleazy motel, one with hourly rates and vibrating beds. Have hot, animal, sweaty, loud jungle sex. Yell like Tarzan and Jane. Just leave me out of it. I've had enough." He shook his head and they finished cleaning up. The way Jack was grinning, he was all for it…and Laura looked willing to try.

As they were standing up, Laura held up a hand for Jack to wait then pulled out a business card from her expensive leather handbag. "If you need anything…if you'd like us to visit before its…too…late," she coughed and shifted uncomfortably; House fidgeted. "call us. But, most importantly, if you feel depressed, lonely, or just need someone to talk to, please call. I don't want you going through these last months lonely."

Now, normally, House would've become belligerent and tell the person to jump off a cliff if he felt they pitied him…but he could see it wasn't pity. She really did care; she wasn't asking just to be nice. And for that he was grateful.

He took the card, stared at it momentarily, nodded in affirmation and turned back to his menu. He was very surprised when she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "So long, handsome and mysterious stranger," she whispered…and he couldn't help the tiny hairs that sprang up on his neck. For one brief moment, he was truly upset he couldn't get what he wanted…then the feeling disappeared. After all, it wasn't his brain giving him that message anyway. It was another part of his body, a way too impulsive part that usually got him into trouble.

Finishing a lonely meal at the restaurant, House realized his ride left him. Sighing, he called a cab that took him back to the bistro. Finally arriving at his hotel, he sighed. It was a long day…he just wanted to curl in bed and sleep away the memories of that day. Just as he was parking the bike, what should he spy?

The Black Shadow Rider herself! She was coming out of HIS hotel!

He narrowed his eyes. _**So she IS following me.**_ Swinging off the bike, he grabbed his cane and limped determinately to Anne who, by this time, was standing by her bike, her back to him and a hand inside a side cycle pack. Just as he was prepared to chew her out he once again took note of her shapely butt; the curve of her narrow waist; the way her jeans hugged her profile. He rolled his eyes and shook them back into place. _**That's all I need right now…another female to make a complete fool of myself over.**_

Standing about 5 feet behind her, he bellowed, "What in the name of all that's good and right in this world are you doing here?"

Anne froze then turned. Looking up she smiled. "I guess I could ask you the same question. I arrived late last night and checked in. When did YOU get in?"

House shifted in his spot. If he told her he came in that day, it would seem HE was the one following HER. Knowing he wasn't about to win that conversation he smirked and changed the subject…sort of. "How do you always end up everywhere I am?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps I am following you, perhaps not. I guess you'll never know." She said then removed something from the motorcycle bag. It was a book: _The Brothers Karamazov_ by Fyodor Dostoevsky. A royal-blue ribbon marked her place somewhere in the middle. _**She's smart,**_ he thought, though he'd known that from the scene earlier in the bistro. _**And it seems she's really reading that book. Interesting.**_

"That's quite a heavy subject for such a small brain," he said, waiting for her reaction. She looked down at the leather cover and smiled as she ran her hand over it.

She turned her gaze back to him. "Don't let the size of my brain fool you; I change it with every outfit I wear. For evening wear, short, short skirts, low-cut tops and push-up bras: a very small brain." It was her turn to wait for a reaction. She saw his eyebrow lift and his lips slide into a smirk. "Business suits: my biggest brain; casual wear and jeans: average sized brain. You'd be amazed at how well clothes and brain size correspond." She turned toward the hotel's front door and began walking. House had to limp-run to keep up.

She sighed as she opened the door and walked to the elevator. Pressing the up button she turned to the man standing beside her. "Homie, why are you still following me?"

He tilted his head in the "Honestly, how can she believe that?" tilt. Pointing to himself he exclaimed "I'm NOT following you: YOU'RE following ME.", and his index finger followed the direction of that conversation.

DING. The elevator opened to the second floor and Anne stepped off. "Good night. I hope your brain doesn't explode as you try to figure out who is REALLY trying to following whom." She smirked as the elevator door closed.

House was left to wonder several things: What just happened? Where am I going? (as he rode the elevator to…wherever); Who does she think she is, calling me "Homie"?; and Why are the hairs standing on my neck?  
*****


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Day 8: Dallas, TX to El Paso, TX: 6 hours; 637 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 2,482**

House went to bed early. What he hoped would be an uneventful, restful evening turned into the complete opposite. Instead of actually sleeping, he was up and down, tossing and turning, thinking about the previous day and the days that lay ahead. Thoughts of Laura and Jack; the piano bet; his stomach; Anne the mysterious, but incredibly intriguing, Black Shadow Rider and egghead; even Gregorio had flashed through his mind. Every once in awhile House would feel pangs of guilt…and the pangs were really going full force that night.

Then, suddenly, the pangs spoke…in the form of his conscience: _**You don't deserve any sleep…what you did was just idiotic. **_

_**Welcome back, Conscience. I hadn't heard from you in awhile and I was getting lonely. How you been?**_

_**Don't give me that load of crap. I'm inside your head too, you know. I know when you're full of it…and you've officially reached overflow.**_

_**Can't you ever say anything nice to me? You're always berating me, leaving me feeling…almost…violated and worthless.**_

_**Oh really? Now you know how others feel after five minutes with you.**_

The conversation continued thus until, finally, House kicked him out of his head and was able to catch just a few precious winks of sleep.

Waking early, since he had had enough of tossing and turning, he took a shower and got dressed. Opening his knapsack, he removed the bag that contained his cancer medication and noticed he was getting low. _I'll have to call Wilson._ Sighing, he decided to take care of it right then and there, before he gets stuck in some puny little backwoods town whose pharmacy/grocery/bait shop/adult video store didn't carry what he needed.

"Dr. Wilson."

"Well, if it isn't Jimbo? I'm surprised to hear it's you answering the phone. I thought it would've been one of the pole dancers I KNOW you picked up last night. I hear Brittany Spears is newly single and has taken up pole dancing," House paused for dramatic effect. "No, wait, that wasn't you: that was me. Jimmy, you'd have been amazed how limber Brittany…I mean, ROXIE, was…and the way she moves that…"

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" Wilson shrieked then chuckled. "And hello to you too. For what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I missed the way you sing me to sleep. It just hasn't been the same without your sweet melodies," House smiled as he heard Wilson's eyes roll.

"I will ask one more time: why are you calling me?"

House sighed. "I need more cancer meds."

"I gave you a two-week supply."

"I'm going to be gone longer than two weeks."

"I know…Cuddy told me."

House growled. "You two are a couple of gossipy fishwives, you know that? Is nothing sacred?"

"Apparently not but, then, you should've confided in Foreman. He seems to be much better at keeping secrets than we are." Wilson paused. "He…he knows about the cancer."

"I know. He told me. He also said I needed to tell the other children."

"You do, especially since you'll be gone indefinitely. They'll be asking questions. How much of your meds are left?"

"Just under a week."

Wilson paused. He seemed reluctant to continue. "How are you feeling?"

_Might as well be honest,_ House thought. _I only wish I could see the look on his face when I throw him for a loop._ "It seems better. I wasn't in pain at all yesterday. The meds you gave me for the pain really seem to work."

"Are you taking Vicodin?"

"I haven't been bleeding since I left Princeton."

Wilson sighed. Classic House Avoidance. "You are, aren't you? And after I told you SPECIFICALLY you can't take them. Haven't we talked about this? You can't take Vicodin…it'll make your stomach worse."

"I'm sorry: did you say that before or after I completely tuned you out during the 'now that you're dying, this is what you can and cannot do' speech? Besides, why should it matter? I'll be dead in five months anyway."

Wilson was incredulous…and downright mad. He could, yet still couldn't, believe House was unwilling to help himself. "You are dying…but we are doctors. We can heal ourselves just like we heal patients. We aren't impervious to treatment."

The next question House asked knocked Wilson for a complete loop: "Would it even matter if I lived?"

An hour later, after Wilson called in a prescription to the local Walgreen's, House was checked out and ready to go. He didn't see the Black Shadow: Anne already left. Inexplicably, this saddened House. He wanted to see her again. In fact, he was amazed at how often the little redhead cycled through his mind…more often than he cared to acknowledge. Perhaps it was the freedom she exuded; perhaps it was the happiness written all over her face and body language; perhaps it was that great set of breasts she had.

Shaking his head to dislodge those thoughts, he left the hotel and went to Walgreen's. Waiting in line like the other 10 people ahead of him, he quickly acquainted every person within listening distance his stance on long lines, screaming children, ignorant customers and inept pharmacists. Somehow they'd managed to keep their concealed guns holstered…after all this was Texas. Everyone carries a gun there. After paying way more than he was used to (he usually got his meds for free) and exiting the store, the Walgreen's store manager announced free Tylenol for anyone unfortunate to listen to "the grumpy pharmacy customer".

As House left Dallas he thought about the rest of the conversation with Wilson from that morning:

"_Would it even matter if I lived?" he asked._

_Wilson gasped. "What kind of lame-brained question is that? Of course it would matter. You'd be missed."_

"_How Jimmy? How would I be missed? As a doctor who could solve what others couldn't? As a father-figure to those with great hair? As an egomaniacal, narcissistic pain in the a$$? As a regret that I wasn't another notch in some woman's bedpost? How Jimmy?"_

_Wilson had been completely stumped. He had no idea how to address this issue…other than tell House how he'd be missed by himself. "As a friend…a dysfunctional friend but a friend nonetheless."_

_While House knew Jimmy would say something like that, it never failed to encourage him. Sighing, House ran his hand through his hair. "There's a Walgreen's down the street from my hotel."_

"_Where IS 'here'…or should I even ask?"_

"_Dallas."_

"_Texas, huh? Meet anyone interesting?"_

_Not particularly eager to go into any detail about Laura, Jack, The Black Shadow Rider, or the piano contest, he avoided the question all together. "And can you put a rush on it? I need to leave."_

"_That bad, huh? Get me the number and I'll phone it in."  
*****_


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Day 8: Dallas, TX to El Paso, TX: 6 hours; 637 miles;**

**El Paso, TX to Tucson, AZ: 4 hours, 30 min: 316 miles:**

**Day 9 & 10:Tucson, AZ to San Diego, CA: 6 hours; 410 miles**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 3,208**

Arriving in El Paso, House's joints were stiff; his leg was barking; his stomach ached; and his head hurt. It was around 5:00 so he decided to break for rest and dinner. Locating a mall, he secured Gregorio (who knows what passing children will do?) and limped inside. Sighing, he plopped down on a couch in the middle of the mall, content to watch the people go by. He didn't realize he'd started to doze off…

An hour later…

RING, RING. RING, RING.

House shot up, the cell phone ringing from its position beside his face. Amazingly, it startled him, despite the noise of the crowd that went by.

RING, RING. RING, RING.

"Oh shut up," he moaned and buried his head under his knapsack, drawing snickers from children around him. Watching them from under the knapsack, he growled and they ran off. "Goodriddance," he muttered.

RING, RING. RING, RING.

"Ok, fine. Be that way." He mumbled underneath his pack. Opening the flip phone, he growled into the receiver, "This better be good."

PAUSE. "I thought it was." House groaned silently when he recognized the voice of his lone female duckling. "I was calling to invite you to the grand opening of my new strip club, _Sassy._"

House was silent for a moment…this didn't sound like Cameron. _**Does she even know what a strip club is?**_ He wondered. Quirking his lip, he chuckled menacingly. "Oh really? Do you even know what a strip club is?"

"I thought it was a steak joint," the sarcastic answer came…and it took all of House's willpower not to laugh. After all, that would only encourage the girl.

"Why did you call then?"

"We have a case."

House sighed and face palmed. "Are you going to call me EVERY TIME you have a case?"

"No. We had a case yesterday and Foreman quickly solved it."

"Then why are you calling me?" He repeated. Pause. "Wait a minute…you don't have a case, do you? I bet you just wanted to hear my voice. Do you miss me Dr. Cameron?" Male chuckle. "I knew it would be difficult for everyone while I was gone, but this has got to be MURDER on you. After all, who will you take care of while I'm gone? The hospital's damaged, grumpy guy isn't around…perhaps the janitor will let you fawn all over him…or the pharmacist, Marco. He's always had his eye on you."

Cameron sighed but didn't answer right away. "There are a bunch of rumors floating around the hospital about why you're gone. Everyone seems to believe you're dying and you wanted to get one last vacation in before you…you know…" Cameron coughed and couldn't go on.

"Croak?" House lifted a hand and began ticking each of them off. "Meet my demise? Cease to exist? Kick the bucket? Vamoose? Conk? Buy my one-way-ticket to the airport in the sky?"

"Airport in the sky? Hardly…try lower."

House leaned back, hardly believing his ears. "That's rather harsh, don't you think?" PAUSE. "Which rumor do you believe?"

Cameron huffed. "I try not to listen to rumors…but if I had to say, I think you're on some mission to redeem yourself. Why? I don't know."

House rolled his eyes. Typical Cameron. "Well, you choose to believe what you believe. Right now, I have an appointment with a masseuse…or, at least, that's what she's calling herself. For $500/hour, I'm beginning to have my doubts. Goodbye Dr. Cameron." He shut the phone.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stretched. _**She's a persistent one, I'll give her that much,**_ he thought as he slowly stood up and began limping around the mall. His lip quirked. He was flattered, after all. _**What red-blooded man WOULDN'T be flattered by such a beautiful woman like her? I'd have to be DEAD not to like it…but it gets old when she goes on and on and on about things. Then she's not quite so beautiful.**_ No matter how he rebuffed her or what he said, he would always be flattered that such a young, beautiful thing could want him.

When he'd worked out the kinks in his neck, he figured he had enough time to get to Tucson, Arizona. Stepping up to his motorcycle, he was surprised at how relieved he was to see Gregorio waiting for him. Punching the destination into the Garmin system, he noticed it was only about 4½ hours. Nodding resolutely, he tucked away his knapsack. After grabbing some food at a drive-thru Mexican restaurant, he ate quickly and got back on the road. It was around 10:30 when he finally arrived in Tucson. Locating yet another hotel, he hunkered down for the night.

The next morning he stretched and began his morning routine, the routine he'd become accustomed to and even began to depend on…including the cancer medication. As he was showering, he resolved to see Tucson in all its glory.

The day had been very good but interesting: he took in the mountains, the scenery…he even had a close encounter with a cacti. After removing the cacti needles from his armpit (he wasn't ready to explain THAT one just yet), he looked at his watch and, feeling a new wave of energy, decided to drive on to San Diego. He'd always wanted to see that place…and he'd spend more than just a day there.

The trip to San Diego was uneventful, especially at night. He'd found the first Super 8 Motel and crashed, sleeping until 9:00 the next morning. With a sudden burst of energy, he sprang from the bed (yep, sprang) and limped to the bathroom.

With bear and bundle in hand, he left the motel (but didn't check out) and limped to his bike…only to find some idiot had knocked it over and ran it over, smashing the rear wheel and other assorted parts. Swearing loudly, he threw his knapsack down and just barely stopped himself before he'd drop-kicked poor Gregorio across the parking lot. _**Get a grip, Greg,**_ his good friend, Mr. Conscience, intervened once again. _**I'm going to be nice to you because I don't want to be stuck here, on the other side of the country, with your sorry butt. I want to get home…eventually. Now think. You need to call the insurance company and get it fixed.**_

House groaned. _**I don't have TIME to call the blasted insurance company. I want to get going. I'll just fix it and not file a claim. Besides, after that little incident six months ago, after drag racing that Mercedes SLK55 AMG then flipping the bike…it's probably not a good idea to mention this, though this one ISN'T my fault. The insurance agent's already pissed off at me.**_

_**You were a dope then…and you're a dope now. It's the only good, responsible thing to do. Just call the agent already.**_

_**Do I look like a good, responsible person?**_

_**Umm…good point. You're absolutely right; my bad. I give up: you do whatever you want. I'll just be over here in the corner, folding an origami ostrich.**_

Muttering under his breath, House limped back to the hotel. Finding the front-desk attendant, who looked no older than 21, he gruffly explained the situation and asked where he could have his bike towed.

"Well," the young man croaked. (_**Ok,**____**I was wrong…he's about 16 and his voice is still changing,**_) "my dad gets his Harley fixed at "The Engine Doc". It's owned by the Prof, just down the street."

House nodded. "Ok. I'll need to call a tow truck. Got a phonebook?" After making arrangements for the tow, the truck came about 20 minutes later. _**Wow…things are looking up already. They usually take an hour and twenty minutes.**_ Riding with the tow truck, the bike and owner were deposited in front of the tiny garage.

Consisting of only three bays, it was an odd mixture of hometown and downtown flavor. Tires lined the sides of the bay entrance; the tiny windowed office was adorned with oil and tire logos; the parking lot only held four spaces. Latino music blared from the open bay doors; both English and fluent Spanish filtered out of the bays, peppering the air with the mingling of the languages. After the tow truck left, House limped into the nearest bay. Three pairs of wide, dark brown eyes greeted him as if he were there to rob them, which only made House fidget. _**Like I could make a fast getaway anyway. **_ Sighing he spied a pair of legs in coveralls and clunky work boots sticking out from under a truck. Thumping the feet with his cane, he gruffly asked, "Hey you. Where's the owner of this place?" The answer, which sounded like "I am", was horribly muffled, which was understandable, given that the owner of the legs was underneath a Ford F-350 Diesel Powerstroke. House rolled his eyes and tapped harder, practically beating the feet with his cane. "Excuse me?!? Can't you get your nose out from under that diesel and talk to me? What kind of man are you?"

The legs scooted forward, bent and gripped the earth for leverage. Scooting further forward, the legs revealed the owner…and House jumped back, his mouth dropping. The owner of this garage was a girl! _**Gee whiz,**_ House thought, running a hand through his hair. _**What is it with women these days? They all act like men…then surprise you when you discover they're **__**beautiful**__** women. First the Black Shadow Rider then this broad. She is hot though.**_

And she was. As she stood, he saw she was about 5'7" and of Spanish descent with long brown hair caught behind her in a clear rubber band. Her skin was beautiful and clear…and the way she filled those cotton work coveralls made him glad he was a man and she a woman. She crossed her arms in front of her and arched an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" she asked in flawless English.

He smirked. "I certainly hope so," her other eyebrow rose at this rather bold statement. "I'm just riding through town and my bike got damaged overnight in the hotel parking lot. The desk boy said this was the place to come…and here I am. I need to be on the road as soon as possible. Can I get it done today?"

"That depends." She said, moving around him…and he found himself watching the way the coveralls hugged her curves as she moved. _**Talk about accentuating the positive.**_

_**You sleaze!**_ Mr. Conscience berated him. House sucker-punched Old Faithful in the stomach, hog-tied him and shoved him out of the way. _**That should do it,**_ he thought. There was no way his conscience would keep him from, at least, putting the moves on her. He barely caught her next phrase: "The more you leer, the less I'll help you." She turned to her employees, who were watching the entire exchange with bewilderment. When she began relating the conversation in Spanish, House realized they didn't understand English. Unfortunate for the woman, House knew Spanish, and when she called him a "crippled Don Juan", House lifted an eyebrow and replied back, in Spanish of course, "I may be a cripple, but I'm no Don Juan."

The woman turned to him, her eyes wide. Suddenly experiencing a change of heart, she nodded. "Ok. I think there's time: let's take a look."  
*****


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

House pointed to the bike and watched her walk to it, her gaze intent on diagnosing and solving the problem. Letting his gaze peruse her chest, he spied the woven name badge, "Prof" on her coveralls, just above her left breast. Tilting his head in curiosity, he asked, " 'Prof'? What kind of a name is that? Don't you have a real one?"

Prof looked at House then quirked her top lip. "Canada."

House looked at her in complete confusion. _**I think this broad's been nippin' from the anti-freeze jug. Her bird seems to have left its cage.**___"Huh?"

Her face broke into a genuine smile that struck House by its beauty. She looked back at the bike. "My name. Canada. Canada Fonesca."

Well, he didn't know what do say about that. After all, he'd never met anyone named Canada. "Canada?!?! Really? I can see why you go by Prof. How'd you get that?" Canada hunkered down to take a closer look at the tire and backend. She didn't answer his question as she lightly ran her hands, almost like a medical doctor examining a patient, over the damaged section. House smirked…but enjoyed watching her hands move over his two-wheeled toy. "You have very nimble hands."

Canada, no stranger to what he was doing, just rolled her eyes and addressed the topic at hand. "Whoever smashed the bike did a fantastic job. The entire backend is out of alignment; the muffler's shot; and you need a bunch of work on the frame and body. I can start today but it definitely won't get done until the day after tomorrow, at the very earliest."

"TWO DAYS!?!?! What kind of business are you running here? This isn't a leisure spa for the privileged engine elite. I'm on a trip and can't afford to wait two days while you fix your nails every time they get dirty."

Canada stood up and looked at House fully. She'd learned, a long time ago, to ignore the misogynistic ramblings of men who either simply hated women or hated seeing a woman in a man's profession. In this case…he didn't seem like either. He just seemed to speak his mind…no matter the result. _**At least he's honest,**_ she thought. Still, rolling her eyes again she crossed her arms over her chest. "Without your bike, you aren't going anywhere anyway. Besides, you're free to go to another garage but they'll probably tell you it'll take even longer. I can fix it in 2 days, barring any unexpected problems. Take it or leave it."

House sighed. The minute he'd seen the bike in its sad state he knew the damage was extensive and would take time. Face palming, he nodded slowly. "Fine. Do it."

Canada nodded, her gaze turning back to the mangled bike. "My father was eccentric. According to him, I was conceived on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls and, as a memento of my parent's vacation, they named me Canada…as if they really needed to call me "Canada" to remind them." Canada shook her head. "I didn't get the full explanation of my name until I was 16, which left me with an "EWWW" complex until I was 19."

House tilted his head, suddenly catching up with the abrupt shift in the conversation. "And why are you "The Prof"?"

Canada shrugged then looked back at the bike, the wheels of her mechanical side spinning in her head. It was clear she was visualizing how best to fix the bike. "I put myself through school working part-time in a garage. Many moons, a Ph.D. in Linguistics and ten years with tenure teaching Linguistics and English As A Second Language at San Diego State University later, I was still working on engines. Don't get me wrong: I love teaching and I love my academic field. But it was the engines…they kept calling me, taunting me, telling me they were my true love." She smiled ruefully.

House clearly looked bored. Other than watching the gorgeous woman in front of him, he was, as usual, completely disinterested in what other people had to say if it didn't relate directly to him. So, with House being House, he leaned a bit forward on his cane and lowered his voice as he asked, "So, Miss Goodwrench, is there a Mr. Goodwrench?" He made a show of leering up and down her body. "How are you with lug nuts?"

"I've never had any complaints before." The twinkle in her eye made House's airway constrict ever so briefly. She grinned as she noticed his barely discernable struggle for breath.

Once air returned to his brain House's eyebrow lifted. _**Oh, a challenge,**_ he thought, suddenly visualizing himself with Canada in another, more explicit, Mechanical Metaphor…and he liked what he saw. But in his mind he heard the echoing, muffled cries of Old Faithful as he struggled against his hog-tie restraint and mouth gag: _**Mhmm…AARRGGHHH!**_ There was no way he was letting his conscience out NOW. Smirking, he said, "Oh really? Does he keep your gears lubed?"

She didn't remove her eyes from his as she leaned further in and quietly asked, "How many of those do you have?" His face fell a bit when he realized she wasn't just going to take it lying down. "Listen Mr..." She stopped when she realized she had no idea who this man was. "Do YOU have a name?"

"Greg House."

"Greg _House_?" Canada asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What do people call you? Greg? House? Homie? Horny Ole Goat?"

House smirked. He was loving this. "You may call me Dr. House."

"Oh, so you're a doctor, too, huh?" Canada stopped and her mouth opened. "Don't tell me you're a psychiatrist." She hoped he wasn't, in this dimension, or ANY OTHER ONE, for that matter. _**But, if he were, that would explain a lot of the problems in society today.**_

House rolled his eyes. "I'm a medical doctor."

She nodded. _**Ok, that makes sense,**_ she rationalized. "Listen, Dr. House, I've been doing this for 25 years. Don't think, for one minute, I haven't heard them all. Now, if you can come up with a metaphor I haven't heard before, you might just get lucky." House smiled slightly...until he realized he'd been had. _**We'll just see about that,**_ he promised himself as followed Canada (and her butt) back inside the bays.  
*****

"Dr. House," Canada sighed when she saw him following her like a puppy dog…a puppy dog with a strange obsession with her derriere. "If you are going to wait for your bike here, you have to wait in the office. Otherwise, I suggest you renting a car and seeing the sights of San Diego. I can't afford to have an overgrown child underfoot."

Watching her, he smirked. "It's not your foot I'd rather be under."

She rolled her eyes. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you?"

"I could keep your spark plugs lit."

Despite how annoying she found him, at that moment she actually thought him kinda cute…in a 7th grade annoying-boy-that-sits-behind-you-in-Biology-and-flicks-your-earlobe sort of way. Knowing she needed to put an end to this nonsense, she folded her arms in front of her and lifted an eyebrow. House lifted his hands in a "Whoa Nelly" fashion and stepped back. Perhaps he'd gone too far.

"Ok, lady. I get it. I won't mess with you while your gears are grinding." House looked around, missing the smile on her face. That was one metaphor she hadn't heard in that context before. "Got a phone around here? I'll call a car rental and get my wrench out of your spokes." He watched her with lifted eyebrows. "I could put my wrench someplace else…"

Canada groaned and held up a socket wrench. "Do you want to know where I'll stick _my_ wrench if you don't shut up with the metaphors?" Judging from by her serious look and the menacing way she was holding that wrench, House decided not to push his luck. Stepping back, he nodded and left the bay, foregoing using her phone. Pulling his own from his pocket, he called information and, within a half hour, secured a car rental that would pick him up. Snapping his phone shut, he went back inside.

"Ok, toots," he began. "Car rentals' picking me up and I'll be out of your way." He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote his cell down. "Here's my cell number. Call me if you have news. I'll be around by 5:00 to check on your progress."

"Thanks Dad." Canada snarked under her breath. "Hey, don't forget to catch SeaWorld and Shamu." She paused and smirked as she pointed her index finger in the air. "Oh, wait, they probably don't want visitors with bigger mouths than their main attractions. Gives the whale a complex."

"Hardy har har." House rolled his eyes then turned when the rental showed up. Turning back to the female grease monkey, he winked. "Don't miss me."

"I'll try not to. I'll be PINING until you come back." Canada rolled her eyes and turned away, leaving House to smile at her butt. _**Oh, this should be FUN.**_  
*****

House actually had a good day touring the sights of San Diego. He did visit SeaWorld and did feel akin with the whale…he didn't know why. _**We're both misunderstood.**___He also visited LegoLand…and actually got kicked out after he made a ruckus and scared a tour group, comprised mostly of two and three-year-olds, when he refused to share his Legos and, being the Prima Donna he was, threw his hands up in a fit and kicked the Legos, hitting the poor children.

_**They aren't artists**__**, **_he mumbled as he limped to his car, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. _**They don't understand. I must have the proper conditions to work on my masterpieces. And why's it always about the little kids? What about us artists?**_

Deciding it was time to head back to the shop, he grinned as he pulled the car into traffic. _**She wants me, doesn't she?**_

_**Boy, aren't YOU delusional.**_

House's mouth dropped. _**How did you get free?**_

_**I have my ways. Do you have any idea how wrong you are? She thinks you're obnoxious. Wake up and smell the diesel fuel: she doesn't want you. Why do you do this? You think every woman wants you; then you push and push; then you're surprisingly disappointed when you discover they just think you're obnoxious. You're hardly God and she's not impressed.**_

_**Why can't you just help me bag her?**_

_**BAG her? What is she, a frozen turkey from the grocery store? She's a woman: a very smart, witty, sexy woman. She could have any guy…and if you continue this way you definitely won't "BAG" her, as you so eloquently stated it. However…I can help you.**_

House rolled his eyes. _**He's**__** going to help **__**me**__**? He's just my conscience…what could he know?**_

_**Apparently a lot more than you do. Now will you just shut up and listen? Or are you just going to hog-tie me again, which I don't think I'll ever forgive you for.**_

House rolled his eyes again. _**Fine…what's this brilliant advice you have for me?**_

_**Well…**_

And Old Faithful gave him some information he'd known; some he hadn't known; and some he never figured worked…like actually being nice to the woman. By the time he ended back at the garage, he thought he had a game plan, one he'd put into implementation as soon as possible.

Smirking, he got out of the car and limped to the bay…but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him: Canada was working on the bike, like he figured she would…but the other person knelt beside her was what stopped him in his tracks. Assembling a muffler for the motorcycle, the person was dressed in all black: black leather ballerina flats; black skinny Levis'; black t-shirt and a backwards black Piston's ball cap kept her curly red hair off her forehead.

Canada was fixing House's bike…

with The Black Shadow Rider.

Anne was back.

*****


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Narrowing his eyes, House limp-marched behind the women and screamed, "WHAT'S THE BUNNY BOILER DOING HERE?" Both women shrieked and dropped their tools. Whirling around, they glared at the screamer.

"What in the world are you doing?" Canada asked, just thankful she hadn't dropped the drill she was using on her foot. Unfortunately, it hit the hard pavement instead and she hoped it still worked. Those drills are expensive.

"Bunny Boiler?" Anne asked, genuine confusion written all over her beautiful face. "I don't get it."

"Why am I not surprised?" House asked, more to himself but loud enough for them to hear. Seeing he didn't get the angry reaction he was gunning for, he snarked, "Glenn Close, _Fatal Attraction. _She boils a bunny in a cook pot on her ex-lover's stove."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Anne asked, even more confused.

"Do you know ANYTHING about _Fatal Attraction_?"

Anne shrugged. "Only that it's a scary movie. I don't like scary movies."

"Jeez." House was incredulous. Not only had he found the ONE person in America who didn't know a thing about _Fatal Attraction,_ but his snarky remark had fallen flat. It really was a bad day. "_Fatal Attraction _is about a stalker. And guess what you are?" He gave her a few moments to try and guess, then exasperatedly exclaimed, "A stalker! Why are you following me? Is this "Candid Camera"?" He looked around, presumably for hidden television cameras but didn't find one of those inconspicuous, yet strangely conspicuous at the same time, white work vans. "Or…I bet Wilson sent you to follow me, probably to keep an eye on me, you know, in case I go ballistic and choose to rip a path of destruction across the US wider than Sherman's March to the Sea. It has to be Wilson…he's the only one who'd pick the beautiful ones." House turned from Anne and shook his head.

Turning to Canada, whose look held complete and utter confusion, Anne asked, "Will you excuse me for a moment? I need a word with Snarkbait here." Canada, after coughing to suppress the laughter that threatened, simply nodded and turned back to her drill, hoping it would work. Anne jerked her head toward the bay doors and into the parking lot.

Once House had caught up, she folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm following you?"

House's mouth fell open in disbelief. _**Wow, this chick is really out of touch with reality,**_he thought. "Are you sure you're a redhead? Or are those blond roots illuminating from under that ball cap? You've got to be the most clueless person on the face of the earth…of course, after you count Brittany Spears, Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan. At this rate, you're beginning to make them look like the Math Club in Dorkville."

Needless to say, by now Anne was mad at him. However she also knew she needed to keep her cool which was why she asked, as nonchalantly as possible, "And if I were stalking you, how would you feel about it?"

House, rather taken aback by the question, didn't answer at first, choosing to stand in place, thumping his cane and kneading his jaw, his bright blue eyes roaming her face. Finally shrugging, House threw his cane up so he could catch the bottom. Holding it like a golf club, he took some practice swings then, lining himself up as if to drive a ball across a green, he said, "Well, since you ARE following me, we might as well make the most of our time together." He froze in mid-swing and held the pose, turning his gaze to Anne. "My hotel or yours? I'll bring the toys, you bring the beer. What are you into? Wax? Whipped Cream? Oils?"

Seemingly prepared for his answer, Anne smirked, deciding to play along. "How about a cool version of _Twister_? It's a lot like the original…only the people are horizontal."

It was House's turn to smirk. "You know, I've heard of that one. It's pretty popular in France. Strip poker?" He stopped swinging, which had resumed after his suggestion, and slowly, methodically watched Anne. "I'll even give you a 100 point handicap." He paused then, just as he opened his mouth to continue, Canada yelled from the bay, "Ok, what's going on out there? I need Anne's help."

"Speaking of that," House quickly changed subjects, ever-so-happy for another subject with which to grill Anne, "what are you doing here and why are you helping Canada? You're just cramping my style."

Anne smiled, this time a full-fledged grin. "Oh really? So you have a style, huh? Persistent and annoying? Sex-crazed, hormonal and shallow? You're such a Himbo, you know that?" Anne chuckled at House's blank look. "Do you even know what a Himbo is?" Judging from the silence and the quirked eyebrow, she took that as a no. "Google it."

House balled his fist in an effort to contain his exasperation. _**She will NOT get to me.**_

_**Oh, who are you kidding? She's already under your skin. You LOVE how she's following you. Talk about a MAJOR ego-stroking session here. And you ARE a Himbo.**_

Deciding not to fight his conscience, since he'd run out of energy, he just ignored it. Sighing loudly and dramatically, he tried one more time. "What are you doing here and why are you helping Canada?"

Realizing he wouldn't let it go, she pointed to the Honda Shadow, sitting off to the side. "I'm having engine trouble. When I pulled up, Canada needed a hand and all her help had left for the night. Of course, it wasn't until I saw the bike I realized whose it was…it was that lovely scrape on the side that tipped me off. My husband and I used to rebuild bikes so I helped her. And that's how you found us." Anne walked around House and his cane towards the garage.

The nosy doctor was very intrigued indeed. _**Husband, huh?**_ Not that he was surprised she was married…or was at one time. What man wouldn't want to be married to her? _**Hmmm…that's interesting. A mystery…and my nose is twitching.**_

*****

House followed Anne back inside and found Canada putting tools away. "It's time to close up shop. I'm going home." Canada said as she stowed away her wrenches.

"How long will it take?" House asked, actually hoping it would take longer than two days. He needed time to get to know Canada or, in the very least, bag her before he left.

Canada sighed. "The damage is much more extensive than I first thought. At this point it will be longer than two days."

House gave himself a mental high-five then dramatically said, "Oh, if you must. I want you to devote your full attention to it." House was so busy in his theatrics he failed to notice the two women as they rolled their eyes at his obvious B.S. "Meanwhile, would you like to have dinner tonight Canada? I promise to be a good boy."

Anne snorted and House turned to her. "What?" He asked, seemingly innocently.

"I was around the last time you asked a woman out and promised to be good…and you challenged the woman's HUSBAND to a piano contest so you could go out with her." Anne turned to Canada, whose eyes were wide. "It was like _Indecent Proposal,_ only without the sex. It was rather pathetic, actually." Anne turned back to House, who was narrowing his eyes at her. "I mean, how desperate do you have to be to challenge the husband of a woman for a date?"

He looked ready to throttle her…until Canada said, "Why not. I resolved, just this morning, to be more helpful and compassionate to those less fortunate, on hard times, or simply pathetic. Dr. House, you seem to fall in one of those categories. Just give me five minutes." Canada smiled then turned around.

He was very surprised but pleased nonetheless. He stuck out his tongue and gave Anne "Nanner Nanner Nanner" antlers with his hands. She responded by crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Pulling out her cellphone, she called for a rental car, which arrived five minutes later. Opening the door, she turned to House, who was still waiting for Canada to return. "Goodbye Dr. House. I'm VERY SURE we'll see each other soon." Winking, she left…and House couldn't help but already miss her.  
*****


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Ready?" Canada asked as she reappeared, startling House with her transformation. Sans the coveralls, Canada's skintight yellow Castrol Oil t-shirt, faded Levis and Rocketdog sneakers gave her a much younger, almost schoolgirl look, which only filled House's very vivid imagination with highly immoral, and perhaps even illegal, thoughts. Canada smirked at his goofy smile. "So, are you a fan of Castrol Oil?"

"I'm a fan of all kinds of lubricants." Rubbing his beard thoughtfully, his piercing blue eyes took in every curve of her body, the way the shirt clung to her like a second skin. He slowly limped behind her. Before she could ask what he was up to, with two fingers he grabbed the t-shirt at the small of her back and slowly, gently, inched the shirt up a fraction, allowing his remaining fingers to graze her back ever so lightly.

Canada's eyes involuntarily closed, along with her windpipe and neuron functions. _**So help me, I can't resist it. I've wanted him to touch me ever since I met him.**_ At last regaining some semblance of sanity, she coughed, opened her eyes then asked as calmly as possible, "What are you doing?" Too bad it didn't sound that way…it came out more like a croak. _**Get a grip girl. You are a rational, smart woman of the 21**__**st**__** Century. You can handle this.**_

"I'm taking a peek under the hood." The soft whisper of his question involuntarily sent chills along her spine and, once again, robbed her of breath as he laid a rough hand lightly on her back.

She shook her head when she finally realized how ridiculous she was behaving. _**Good grief Canada. What's wrong with you? You've never treated someone you've been this attracted to this badly. Why now?**_

_**You know the answer to that one.**_ This time it was her conscience that answered. However, unlike the battle between House and his conscience, she actually listened and was on good terms with herself. _**Yes, you know a lot of men like him, but you haven't wanted to sleep with them. What makes this one different?**_

_**I haven't a clue.**_

_**Of course you do. He's exactly what you've always wanted in a man: tall; trim; sexy blue eyes; very quick, sharp, intelligent mind…not to mention a great set of hands. Even the facial hair is amazing. He's bad; you know it…and you still want it. Admit it.**_

_**That's right…he's bad. I can't have him.**_

_**You've always told yourself you had to be the good girl. In fact, you've spent most of your life running from the "bad boy". Stop kidding yourself: you want the bad boy. You just don't know what to do. **_

_**Let him seduce you.**_

She did a mental head slap…actually it was more of a mental face slap. _**Excuse me? Are you SURE this is my conscience? I should do WHAT?**_

_**Let him seduce you.**_

Still not sure she heard herself right but not wishing to waste any more time, she snapped back to reality. Pulling away from House, albeit reluctantly, she took her keys from her handbag and left him to lock the bay doors. Returning, she took an intentionally defensive stance. "You're a bold one. Shouldn't you ask permission before checking under a woman's hood?"

He shrugged as if it were no big deal but looked her square in the eyes. "Probably."

Not willing to address the real issue, which was their mutual attraction, Canada turned on her heel and headed to her car in the tiny parking lot. House shook his head and followed.

*****

House and Canada made quite a striking couple as they navigated the maze of tables in the tiny Scandinavian restaurant they ended up at. After the waiter took their order, Canada looked House straight in the eye and asked, "What are you running from?"

He was taken aback. He didn't expect that question off the bat. Sighing, he shook his head and looked down at his hands. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but I feel I can trust you. I'm a 16-year-old girl in the Witness Protection Program. I witnessed a mob hit and I'm currently fleeing from "Big Sausage" Geraldi. That's one mean sucker, let me tell you. As you can see," he moved his hand up and down his body. "I had an excellent plastic surgeon." House smirked then held up his hands in a surrender gesture as Canada narrowed her eyes. "Ok, ok. I'm a doctor in Princeton, New Jersey." He paused, fingering his beer glass, before continuing. "A month ago I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. I'm biking across country."

All he got in response was silence. Wondering if she was even still there, House looked up and saw her sad, startled eyes and opened mouth. Swallowing hard, Canada opened her mouth to say something when, in the background, a woman screamed, "HELP SOMEBODY! MY SON IS SEIZING! CALL A DOCTOR!" House looked up and turned to the ruckus three tables down. When he spied the child, he took his time getting up and, limping over, he examined the child.

"Call an ambulance," he calmly examined the boy as he continued convulsing on the floor. An older man at the table pulled out a cell phone to make the call and the mother stared at the strange man with a cane.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a doctor by day, Spiderman by night." He looked up at the woman from his knelt position. Seeing her appalled face, his mouth dropped in mock disbelief. Holding up his cane, he asked, "What? You don't believe me?" He looked back at the child as he took his pulse. "Forget the ambulance. We've got to get him to the hospital. Now." Picking up the child, House turned to Canada who was standing behind him. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

"I'll drive you." House, the little boy and Canada led the boy's family out the door, leaving behind a restaurant full of startled diners.

*****


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

_Soft sighs and stilted "mews" filled the quiet room as the two lovers, known only to themselves, spoke volumes without ever saying a word…well, at least an intelligible word anyway. The man's right hand moved along her skirted waist; her hands worked the button of his slacks. Her "mews" turned to whimpers as his long, deft, strong fingers inched her skirt up in search of his sweet reward for their discretion. After all, no one knew about them, which was how they wanted to keep it._

"_Oh..." her increasing moans and soft yelps of his name interrupted his short thought tangent as his hand moved inside her silky thigh…and her moans only increased in volume as he inched higher…and higher…and higher still. _

"_Mmmm…" It was his turn to vocalize when he realized his reward was unencumbered by silk, cotton or any other fabric. He spoke her name, surprisingly calmly considering what they were doing. He grabbed her butt, lifted her up and carried her to the nearest hard, flat surface. Finally looking into her eyes, he laced one hand through her hair and lowered his mouth to within inches of hers. But instead of kissing her, he said her name again. She looked at him puzzled. Her puzzlement grew when, suddenly, he began lightly shaking her head and he repeated her name, with ever increasing urgency. Finally his voice changed…and it wasn't his anymore…it was someone else…a very familiar, not necessarily welcome voice either…_

"CAMERON!" Cameron awoke with a start to find she was sitting in a chair at the conference room table…and that interlude was a dream…a very, very nice dream but a dream nonetheless. She looked up and saw Foreman standing there, his eyebrow raised at the drool running down her chin, his hand still on her head. He was the one who was shaking her. Rolling her eyes she wiped her mouth and Foreman crossed his arms. "Get up and stop dreaming about House."

Cameron, knowing she needed to save face, flashed him her best fake surprised look. "I wasn't dreaming about House. What makes you think I was?"

"The pungent smell of estrogen wafting throughout the room: it's the same smell you emit whenever you're around him." Cameron flinched and Foreman smirked. "That and you were moaning his name, over and over." He took a moment to look her up and down. "I think I need a cigarette now." His eyebrows danced and he belly-chuckled as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I must say, Dr. Cameron, I'm very surprised. I had no idea girls like you had sex dreams, well, at all."

Cameron lifted her eyebrows. "Really? You might be very surprised at what I'm capable of. Care to find out?"

"As tempting as that sounds, we actually have a case. If I want to know, I'll just ask Chase. He knows where your secret moles are." Cameron rolled her eyes and stood up, following Foreman to House's office.

"A case? I haven't heard about a case." She said as she flopped in House's recliner.

Foreman sat in the boss's chair and pulled a steno pad from its position under House's favorite red-and-black oversized tennis ball. Grabbing a pen, he prepped himself for their meeting. "That's because you're too busy fantasizing about your boss. House called earlier from San Diego. It seems, while out on a date, a boy seized in the restaurant."

Cameron sat straight up at "House" and "on a date". "House was on a date?"

"I know, shocking, isn't it? Patient is an eight-year-old boy named Tyler Stephens. He's had no previous medical problems; he's had all his vaccinations."

"House was on a date?" Cameron asked again, clearly missing everything Foreman said.

Foreman rolled his eyes just as Chase walked in. "Cameron, give it up. He does date even after rejecting you. Get over it."

Chase snorted. "You told her about House's date, didn't you?" Foreman and Chase laughed and she threw her hands up in surrender. Before another word could be exchanged, House's desk phone rang.

Foreman hit "speaker". "You're on speaker."

"Hello children. Are you making nice while the teacher's on Spring Break?" PAUSE then a loud SNIFF, SNIFF. "Cameron, have you been dreaming about me again?"

All the ducklings' mouths dropped. Cameron gulped and croaked, "No."

"Liar. See there, boys…everyone lies, including Mary Sue Goodytwoshoes. Mary, I can smell your estrogen wafting through the phone. You were SO doing me."

"Focus, House…the patient. A healthy eight-year-old with inexplicable seizures." Foreman said exasperatingly.

PAUSE. "Cameron, what was I doing to you?"

"Lubing my car. Can we get back to the patient?" Cameron asked, just about ready to murder her boss.

He chuckled. "That's hot. Canada here is great with all kinds of lubricants." They heard a brief scuffle then "OWWWW! What did you do that for?" A muffled female voice answered: "Because you're a complete jacka**."

"HOUSE!" All three ducklings screamed, attempting to restore order to the chaos.

"What?" He seemed annoyed he was being yelled at.

"Why did you call us? You're the great Dr. Gregory House. You don't need us." Cameron badgered.

"I am, aren't I? But I want to teach my children well. And this is a case you have to solve." He paused. "8-year-old presents with seizures. A clean medical history but he does wear glasses."

Foreman frowned and looked at the phone. "You didn't tell us he wore glasses."

"So? What difference does it make? Would you deny him health care because he needs glasses? Isn't that discriminatory? Foreman, you of all people should recognize discrimination. Shame on you." Foreman just rolled his eyes. He knew his boss better than House thought he did. He knew when to take House with a grain of salt…especially since he was dying. House continued. "We've run all the standard tests for seizures. What should we do next?"

House was just testing his children. In actuality, House knew exactly what was happening with Tyler Stephens and had, in fact, already started the specific testing to confirm. However he did know this was an illness they'd never treated during their fellowship. Besides, he loved having the upper hand. Speaking of upper hand, he was dying to know what happened in Cameron's sex dream.

"So, Dr. Alison, what were you wearing…or not wearing…in this dream?"

The duckies ignored him, leaving the room in complete silence for the medical minds to whir. Moments passed. Just as House opened his mouth to berate the poor conditions of the public school system and their effects on his duckies, Wilson walked further into the room. He'd been listening from the doorway and decided to speak up. "Did you do a CT scan of his head? It could be neurological."

"Is that you Jimmy?" House's frustrated voice filtered throughout the room. "You're going to ruin the surprise…I hate it when people do that. What makes you think it's neurological? And why didn't our NEUROLOGIST suggest this?"

Foreman piped in. "I didn't suggest it because you said you ran the standard tests for seizures. Didn't you do a CT?"

"Of course I did but I lied. Ok, I did lie but hey, I felt left out…everyone else was doing it! If I told you I'd done a CT it would've given away the story much too quickly and thereby ending the suspense. Jimmy, why do you think it's neurological?"

"Well, because he's 8 years old with no history of head trauma. Plus he's wearing glasses. I'm thinking Batten disease." Wilson said and the duckies sat back, putting all the pieces together.

"Oh, alright, I'll give it to you since the class dork gave it away," House whined from the phone. "No one likes a teacher's pet…well, except Cameron of course. Hey, Jimmy," House's voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "did you know that our very own Mary Sue Goodytwoshoes is having sex dreams about me?"

Cameron gasped; the male duckies snickered; and Wilson rolled his eyes. "House, that sounds like the only sex you've been getting lately. No wonder you're excited." The snickering continued and even Cameron managed to crack a smile.

"Au contraire Jimmy-boy. I'm a babe magnet: wherever I go, women love me. Why, they're practically throwing themselves at my feet. Canada here wants to jump my bones…OWWWW!" House screamed again and there was more shuffling. "She's a bit rough but I love it. I bet you don't have a woman stalking you. I do, a beautiful redhead with a killer body. She knows how to ride motorcycles…and boy can she ride them. I wonder if she's as good at riding a bike as she is at…"

"THE PATIENT, HOUSE!" Foreman yelled. "Are you sure you haven't developed a sudden but annoying case of pubescent 13-year-old Attention Defect Disorder while you were gone, complete with spiking testosterone? Stay with us. You're saying the kid has the juvenile form of a Neuronal Ceroid Lipofuscinoses or NCLS, Batten disease? It's a rare but inherited neurodegenerative disorder."

"BINGO! Score one for the dark one."

"But having seizures and wearing glasses isn't indicative of Batten. Movement disorders, ataxia or unsteady gait, dementia and mental retardation are more definitive signs of Batten." Cameron said, still incredibly bitter about her boss's lack of tact. Then again, why is she upset or even surprised? She's suffered through it for three years.

"Which, Mary Sue, is why I did a CT, a tissue biopsy and a genetic test. The CT and tissue biopsy are done and the genetic testing is happening right now. The CT showed a slight atrophy or brain shrinkage; the tissue biopsy showed lipofuscin, or aging pigment storage. The genetic tests will show if one, or both, parents gave the boy the condition. We got it covered here."

For the second time that day, the duckies' mouths dropped from shock and anger. "Then why did you call us if you've already done everything?" Chase asked, picking up House's favorite toy and bouncing it against the wall, specifically throwing it hard so House could hear it.

"Are you bouncing Melvin? And after I SPECIFICALLY told you kids to NOT touch him, you're violating my friend."

Wilson's face filled with confusion. "Melvin?" He then looked at the ball and pointed as if to silently ask, _'He can't seriously have called the tennis ball Melvin.'_ "Did you name your tennis ball Melvin?"

"Of course I did and you're now violating him. Drop him right now." House's voice rose two octaves.

"Were you just trying to screw with us?" Chase asked, his face grimacing in disgust.

"Of course I was…no, wait, that's Cameron's job." By then Cameron's face was beet red and the others could've sworn steam was coming out of her ears. All three male doctors held up their hands (Chase stopped bouncing Melvin and left him on the floor) and stepped back silently and defensively. "I was trying to get you children to solve the case yourselves but your geeky older brother ruined the ending. Thanks Jimmy."

"Ok, House, go solve your puzzle and, while you're at it," Wilson winked at Cameron, "get a couple shots of estrogen to calm that raging testosterone. If that doesn't work, try castration." Cameron's face suddenly brightened with a smile and she crossed her arms in a "So take that House" stance.

"Unclench Cameron. You haven't beaten me yet…I've only just begun. Now that I'm dying I've got to get as much in as possible. Deal with it. And if you don't believe me, just ask Foreman. He knows I'm kickin' the bucket. Bye bye…and I'll see you in your dreams." He laughed and hung up, leaving the entire office in a state of confusion: Chase and Cameron, the only two oblivious to what was going on, knew House wouldn't joke about himself dying but they also couldn't believe he really was dying, especially after THAT conversation. They looked to Foreman for confirmation of this…but the still, grave face was the confirmation they needed…

And they finally knew their boss was dying.

They just didn't realize he only had…

Five months.

*****


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

After the tests came back confirming his diagnosis, Canada offered him a ride back to his hotel. Judging from the pained expression in his eyes, the way he held his stomach and the slump of his shoulders, he'd lost his jovial, testosterone-filled mood, so the car was quiet.

When they'd pulled into the parking lot, she put the car in park and turned to her passenger who was looking straight ahead. What happened, more like HOW it happened, next was a complete mystery to both of them:

"_We're here Dr. House," Canada said as she studied him. _

"_So we are." House turned to Canada, a "What's going to happen now?" look in his eyes._

And she answered by leaning over and kissing him hard, long, lingering. At first he was shocked, not responding to the kiss…but that only lasted a few nanoseconds as his body forgot the pain and fatigue. Sitting up straighter, he grabbed her face, framing it with his long fingers. Tongues meshed, teeth knocked, moans filled the car, all thoughts of propriety left as his hands moved from her face, down her neck, inching painfully further down. She pulled away.

"Which is your room?" She gasped, licking her bottom lip. Needless to say, if that kiss hadn't kick-started House, the simple movement of her tongue certainly did.

"Come on," he breathed and, with amazing speed, he jumped out of the car. Going to the back, he waited for her to lock her door, silently marveling at how his stomach failed to hurt anymore. As she joined him, he pulled her to him and this time claimed her mouth, grinning at himself when he felt her whole frame go to spaghetti.

They made their way into the hotel, stealing glances and kisses. Just as the amorous couple stepped onto the elevator, House heard behind him:

_**Himbo! Man-whore! **_

House turned around but not seeing anyone outside the elevator yelling derogatory things at him, he looked down at Canada. His body temperature rose at the flushed cheeks, the sparkling nearly-black eyes, the mussed hair.__

_**You NEVER listen, do you? You stubborn jerk. **_

Suddenly realizing who was really talking he grinned at Mr. Conscience, turned to Canada, grabbed her to him and kissed her, INTENTIONALLY making him mad as the elevator doors closed. By now, Mr. Testosterone was overruling Mr. Conscience…

until the elevator doors opened.

And what he saw was like a bucket of ice water down the front of his, um, well, front. Actually, it was more like WHO he saw standing there…

*****

House gulped and his eyes widened as he stared into eyes so much like his own.

"Greg?" The elder male House's shocked look could've come from either seeing his son in this San Diego hotel (of all places)…or from the glimpse of tongue action he briefly caught between his son and this unknown woman when the elevator doors opened. John House stood straighter, adjusted his polo shirt and narrowed his eyes at his only son. "Greg, wipe that lipstick off your face and adjust your clothes. Your mother will be out soon."

House robotically stepped from Canada and did as he was told…with not a moment to spare. Blythe came strolling around the corner and she reacted very similarly. "Greg honey! What on earth are you doing here?" To avoid answering right away, House smothered his surprise and leaned down to kissed his mother.

"Hi Mom. What are you two doing here?"

"Your cousin Earlene's getting married in a few days and your Aunt Grace invited us to stay for a few days before. I KNOW you weren't invited to Earlene's wedding. The entire family knows how much you hate her." She adjusted her Capri pants then regarded House.

"I don't hate Earlene."

Blythe's eyebrow stood up. "Oh really? Is that why you castrated her favorite pet pig?"

House rolled his eyes. "That was medical training."

"Medical training? You were seven years old. If you were going to do that, the least you could've done was knock the pig out. Instead you tied its poor little hooves to their electric fence, switched on the juice and, while Wilber was frying you hacked off his manhood. I'LL never forgive you for that one." Blythe disappointingly shook her head then gave a full-body shiver. Despite herself, Canada snorted with laughter. Everyone looked at her which only intensified her laughter.

"Isn't she a bit old for finally getting married? She's what, 45?" House said, trying to find some way to justify behavior from 40 years previous. "There had to be something wrong there from the beginning. My mutilation of a walking slab of bacon didn't cause her mental problems. And who names a pig Wilbur anyway?"

Blythe watched him incredulously. "Of course it did. Greg, "Charlotte's Web" was her favorite book. Wilbur was her favorite pig. When you zapped him he died. And she was never the same." House snickered and his mother gave him a "you laugh anymore and you'll regret it" look. He shut up. "From that moment on Earlene seriously distrusted men. When she got older she told her mother she was becoming a vegetarian because she heard Wilbur's snorts every time she passed the meat counter at the grocery store. It's been through intensive therapy and many, MANY nights of burning your pictures she's been able to lead a fairly normal life. And now she's getting married."

"Who's she marrying, a butcher?"

"A vet."

House snorted. "Isn't THAT ironic. Well, the next time someone castrates another pig, her husband can just glue it back on." Canada's mouth dropped and she felt it was time for her intervention. Hence a good swift knock upside the head.

John smirked then sarcastically said, "I see you continue spreading little rays of sunshine wherever you go." He turned to Canada and took a moment to study her. Extending his hand, he laid on a kind of charm that House alone knew was fake (at least partially) and smiled. "John House. This is my wife Blythe. And you are?"

"Canada." John's eyebrow lifted at this but seeing she wasn't going to elaborate just let it go. He turned back to his son.

"So, where'd you meet this one?"

Canada's mouth dropped once again and Blythe gasped. House subtly narrowed his eyes at his father then said, "She's fixing the bike. It broke down."

"You never answered your mother's question. Why are you here?"

House tapped his cane on the ground and regarded his father with a completely emotionless expression. "Road trip."

"Road trip?" Blythe asked. "You hate traveling, especially with your leg. Why?"

*****

This was the part of the story he didn't want to tell his parents. In fact, he had hoped to just die and not bother them with the details, like him being dead.

He hadn't really thought about what he'd said but, as it turns out, it didn't matter. He wasn't the one to reveal the secret…  
*****

"He wants to see America before he croaks," another voice piped up behind the group. Everyone turned and saw…

Anne Donaldson.

"He's only got 5 months to live."

"Thank you Dr. Greg House," House narrowed his eyes and glared at the pretty redhead adorned in shorts, t-shirt, Birkenstocks and a haughty smile. "But can I take it from here? And what are you doing here?"

But that answer never came as Blythe fainted right at her son's feet.  
*****


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

House rolled his eyes at Anne and bent down to help his mother. "Perfect. Look at what you've done now. I'll be lectured about how impolitic it is to NOT inform your parents of your sacred business."

"You mean something as sacred and SECRETIVE as _dying_?" John growled at his son. It was, after all, the only reaction he could muster. John was just as in shock as Blythe had been. He bent down beside his wife. Despite his rough, gruff, tall, BIG appearance (he was a good 2 inches taller than his 6'3" son) he gently took his wife in his arms and cradled her against him.

"So you had no intention of telling your parents their son was dying?" Canada chose that moment to finally say something.

House watched his parents and stood up with silent relief as she groaned. She was coming to. "Wha…? What happened? Where am I?"

John sighed with relief. "Bly? Honey? It's ok. You fainted."

She looked at her husband with an expression of sheer bewilderment. "Why?"

"Because," John glanced at his son, "a complete stranger informed us our only son is dying…and he had no intention of telling us himself."

House's mouth closed as he digested the look his father gave him. It was disappointment; it was anger. The usual. But it was the heartbreak; the sadness; the BETRAYAL that his ONLY SON failed to tell him that, in a short while, he wasn't going to be around. Once House had recovered from this, he turned on his heel and found Anne still standing there, a genuine look of sadness on her face. She knew she shouldn't have said anything…but she also knew he probably wasn't going to say anything himself. Anne categorized it as helping him and his family. Yet Anne had a feeling he wasn't going to see it that way.

Never removing his eyes from her, House slowly moved towards Anne. Her eyes widened with shock at the look in his eyes and began backing up, towards the long hallway of rooms. In a low, excruciatingly painful and angry voice, House growled, "How DARE YOU tell them ANY of my business. You had NO right to barge in here and interfere. Just who do you think you are anyway?" They kept walking, her backing up, him limping towards her. But halfway down the hallway she saw how each step was hurting him more and more, so much so that, by the end of the hall, he was doubled over, holding his stomach. She snapped to attention and put her arm around his back.

"House, we've got to get you to bed. You need to rest. You've been doing way too much. Are you on this floor?"

House could only nod and managed to pull out his room key. "427." They easily located the room and she gently laid him on the bed, making him more comfortable as she removed his jacket. Retrieving a glass of cold water she returned to see him place a hand on his head and her heart tugged at the obvious pain in his eyes as he clutched his stomach with his other hand. "House, stay here. Don't move. I'll go talk to the others."

House opened his mouth to tell her to leave him alone. That's what he did: he didn't want others helping him, be NICE to him. That's a sign of weakness, something his father drilled, from a young age, how EVIL it was to show weakness. But he shut his mouth. He couldn't understand it: he was actually too weak to care anymore. That never happened to him, even during all those excruciating nights of tormenting pain.

Nodding, Anne turned and found the others.  
*****

"Where's Greg?" Canada asked when Anne approached.

"He's in a lot of pain and needs to rest but he's in good hands. I'm a doctor." Anne said.

"Who ARE you?" John asked, thoroughly confused as to how this woman knew so much about his son. It was obvious from the look on House's face he didn't know anything about the woman.

Anne sighed and face-palmed. "I'm Doctor Anne Wilson-Donaldson. I'm Dr. James Wilson's cousin."

Blythe's eyes widened. "Jimmy's cousin? Does Greg know that?"

Anne shook her head. "No. Jim called me the day he heard about House's road trip and asked me to follow him."

Blythe's face contorted in confusion. "Follow him?"

Anne nodded and chuckled ruefully. "I'm an avid biker. My late husband and I used to bike across the United States all the time so I know a lot of great routes. Jim was worried…" Anne stopped and looked at her hands. "Jim was worried about this, about House being in a strange place alone and in pain so he asked me to keep an eye on him."

"Greg's gonna flip his lid when he finds out what you're doing," John chuckled with disbelief. "But why did you tell us about Greg?" John paused and immediately calmed as very rare tears surfaced over his eyes. "And…and…what's wrong with Greg?"

"Stomach cancer. He's only got 5 months. I told you because I knew he'd never. He's very prideful and doesn't want anyone fawning over him. While admirable, it's just idiotic. And he's driven too hard. He needs to rest. Canada," Anne turned to the stunned woman. "you said the bike will be ready in a few days, right?" Canada nodded. "Let him rest then tell him its ready. And I'll steer clear for awhile so you can say goodbye." She could see the tears filling Canada's eyes and her heart tugged for her. Canada agreed then, with one last look down the hall, slowly got on the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, the sound of wailing reached everyone's ears.

Turning to the elder Houses, who were still in a state of shock/denial/sadness all rolled into one ('Sure makes the grieving process go by faster,' Anne thought then felt guilty for that.) she said, "Let me talk with him, examine him, tell him who I really am then you can come visit. Is that ok?"

John and Blythe nodded. "We'll be downstairs. Come get us when you're ready." Anne nodded and turned to walk down the hall. She hadn't taken three steps before Blythe asked, "Anne? You said late husband, right?"

Anne stopped but didn't turn around. "Yes." The pain in her voice was evident.

"You are so young, too young to be a widow. How did he die?"

Looking down, her back still to them, she said, as loudly as she could muster, "I'm a pediatric surgeon and John was an Oncologist." She slowly turned to them and the Houses saw the tears slip down her face. "He died of stomach cancer." She backed up a few steps then from their looks of realization. She didn't want to see the pity. She'd seen enough in her one lifetime to easily outlast three lifetimes.

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself as she steadied her normally rock-solid nerves and headed back to the room.

Now all she had to do was tell him…  
*****

Standing outside his door, Anne took a few deep breaths before inserting the key. She didn't look forward to having this conversation with him, especially given his current state of agonizing pain. But she knew, sooner or later, it had to happen. _Might as well get it over with. How fast can a lion eat you anyway?_ Pushing the door open she found…nothing.

That is, except for a knotted bed sheet and an open window.

For a moment she didn't know what to do except stare, open mouthed, at the scene in front of her. If it wasn't for the grunting and scratching coming from the other end of that homemade rope, she'd didn't know how long she'd have stood there.

Anne realized she, and everyone else, had been had: House was not in excruciating pain. He was making the whole thing up. Quickly resolving NOT to tell him who she was just yet, she needed to determine why he was attempting a "Great Escape" exit from the hotel. But she'd never find out if she continued to let the escape artist dangle from the fourth-floor window.

Taking a moment to roll her eyes, she marched to the open window and looked down. Despite the situation, she found herself stifling her laughter as she took in the scene enfolding in front of her (well, more like below her): House, dangling from the rope, his cane somehow shoved into his rear belt loop, his grunts the only sign of his exertion.

Grabbing the rope, she yanked suddenly, causing House to shriek with surprise and glare above him. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Anne called.

"I'm darning socks. The light's better out here."

"Interesting." She began yanking and he shrieked again then stopped when he realized she was actually making progress and he was moving up!

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" he yelled but she didn't stop. Swinging furiously, House attempted to stop her but couldn't. About three-fourths the way up he stopped and asked, "You can't possibly be pulling me up. How are you doing that?"

"Easy…" she stopped pulling. "The bellhop just happened to walk by the open door and he's doing most of the pulling." House suddenly saw a dark-headed man stick his head out the window, smile and wave.

In spite of himself, House laughed. _That little girl's got spunk._ He suddenly quieted and looked down, as if contemplating how far the drop really was.

Anne immediately knew what he was doing and her eyes widened. "Don't EVEN think about it. I'm carrying a gun, I will shoot you. That's a promise."

It was his eyes' turn to widen and then he tilted his head back. "Really? That t-shirt looks awfully tight. Where do you keep it?"

"Never you mind." Mr. Bellhop (who was also looking for the elusive gun) and Anne started pulling, which only made him rock harder. "Stop it!" she yelled.

"Only if you tell me where it is. I've got a very vivid imagination and know Women's Anatomy like the back of my hand."

"I do too, strangely enough. Let's just say it's safe and very, very warm." That little comment suddenly made him warm…and jealous of the gun…but he stubbornly refused to give in. "Ok, fine." Anne's face became very stoic. "If you promise to be a good boy and come up peacefully, I'll tell you where it is."

"I'd much prefer you showing me," he grinned wickedly.

"Or we could just let you drop and you can break both legs, thereby leaving you in traction and never having the opportunity to get better acquainted with Canada. The choice is up to you." Anne held on to the rope but leaned against the windowsill, her resolve as strong as his.

House stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "I'd find a way. I know many tricks."

"I'm sure you're well-versed in many sexual respects, none of which I care to hear about. Just get up here."

Perhaps he finally realized the argument was pointless, given his current position; perhaps he hated swinging in mid-air from the fourth floor; perhaps he really, REALLY wanted to see her gun; perhaps he wanted to discuss these "sexual respects" further. Whatever the reason it was enough to persuade him to agree and he nodded.

"That's a good boy." And, with a few heaves later, Mr. Bellhop and Anne got House back inside the hotel. Once they ascertained House was ok…just a lying, thoughtless idiot…Mr. Bellhop was still standing there. Anne turned to him and said, "Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it." But he didn't move. Anne's eyes lit up. "Of course, you want a tip. Ok…" she went over to her saddlebags and extracted a $10. He took it but didn't move. "What now?"

Mr. Bellhop grinned. "I wanna see the gun."

House chuckled in a very "See what I mean? You've got to show us now." fashion.

Anne, still standing in front of Mr. Bellhop, raised her eyebrows. Shifting to face the bed, she lifted her left leg so her foot rested on the bed. Looking at the men, Mr. Bellhop's pale cheeks flushed with anticipation. And House? House was watching her every action like a hungry Doberman who spied a T-bone steak. Smirking, Anne inched her shorts-leg up, showing more and more of her pale skin, smirking evermore as both men took deep inhales of breath. Up and up and up the shorts went until House was SURE he saw a flash of some shiny pink material. Finally he saw…absolutely nothing.

It had been her turn to "punk" House…and she was very successful.

Despite this deception, or perhaps because of it, House had a newfound respect for his stalker. _**This is one tough, clever broad…but I can soften her up. Just once, that's all I need. Just once.**_

_**Oh, House, you sex-crazed maniac. You don't have to sleep with the woman to prove who you are.**_

_**There you are!**_ He greeted Ole' Faithful. _**I missed you buddy. I know I don't but it's a way more fun than doing the honorable thing. Now leave me alone…I need to figure out how to make a woman of a certain redhead.**_

Mr. Bellhop's eyes widened when he realized he'd been had then left, swearing under his breath. "That's what you get for being curious," she called behind him. Turning to House, she put her leg down and crossed her arms. "Great job. You do realize, of course, you don't have your bike and you came with Canada. You wouldn't have had transportation anywhere. Did you even think that far ahead or were you just so proud of yourself for pulling a fast-one on your own parents? How dare you try and sneak out of this problem? And what about Canada? One minute you two are going hot and heavy, the next you're bailing. What gives?"

House's sexual motivations completely evaporated with her allegations. "That's none of your business." He was starting to get upset, thereby making his responses choppy and harried. "And you should've just let me go. And you never answered my question: why are you here?"

She didn't answer him, just stared him down. "Your parents are the reason you were leaving, aren't they? You were never going to tell them."

"Would it have mattered?"

"Would it have mattered?" She repeated, only her version accentuated each word with a heavy dose of incredulous emphasis. She found it extremely hard to believe a child wouldn't tell their parents they were dying. "They looked heartbroken when they heard you were dying and their faces were so pained when they saw you in pain. Of course it would've mattered." She watched him a bit. "Did they hurt you?"

"Again, none of your business. Go bail someone else out of trouble. I'm fine."

By then Anne was seeing red. Livid, she moved closer to House, grabbed his shirt collar and spoke before she thought. "I don't have a choice: I can't let you be. It's my responsibility to see you act responsibly." _Oops,_ Anne instantly regretted. _I said too much. And after I agreed to say nothing._

House looked at her oddly. "What do you mean, you don't have a choice? What's going on?"

She took a step back, released his collar, and headed for the door. "You should talk to them. They're down the hall. I'm leaving now." Behind her she heard his heavy STEP-STEP-THUMP as she threw open the door…only to be greeted by John House, holding his fist up as if just about to knock; Blythe, wringing a handkerchief; and Canada, sheer panic and concern marring her beautiful countenance.

"Son! You look like you're feeling better." John exclaimed, eyeing his son up and down. Turning to Anne, he smiled. "Jimmy's cousin must be as good of a doctor as she is beautiful."

Anne closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. _This is it,_ she thought, bracing herself for what was, inevitably, coming…and coming hard and fast.

"Jimmy's cousin?" House asked, realization dawning in his voice, along with curiosity to affirm this realization. "What do you mean?"

"Greg, you mean you don't know yet? Anne is Anne Wilson-Donaldson, Jimmy's first cousin. Jimmy asked her to follow you, to keep you out of trouble."

Anne took a deep breath and turned around, only to find a look of pure glee and yet, at the same time, wickedness, on his face…she knew he was SO going to use this to his advantage. Anne smiled lightly. House leaned over and whispered, so only she could hear, "Don't you wish you now had that gun? The games are on, woman, and you've got to defend yourself."

And Anne knew she was right.

The rest of the trip would be very, VERY interesting.

Like it or not, she was following the dying, cranky doctor back to Princeton.

*****

Gathering her wits about her, Anne took in the scene around her: the older set of Houses staring at their son with a mixture of sadness, anger and regret; House, watching Anne with a evil twinkle in his eyes…and Canada was still there!

Suddenly developing a "cough"…more like an escape ploy…Anne nodded to everyone. "Excuse me…" COUGH, COUGH. "…I'll let you folks talk." COUGH, COUGH. "Nice to meet you." Anne began walking around the group of people in the doorway.

"And I guess I'll see you later?" House asked an innocent look on his eyes. Anne wasn't fooled; she'd seen the twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes. _It's not over, it's just begun, _they promised. And she believed him.

Anne sped walked down the hall and out of the hotel, speeding to hers a couple doors down. Running into her room, she pulled out her phone. Quickly dialing, the person on the other end picked up after two rings.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"Jimmy? It's Anne. He found out about me and you and what's going on." SILENCE. "Jimmy, are you still there?"

SIGH. "Where are you now?"

"We're in San Diego, in separate hotels."

"Get back to his room! He's gonna bolt."

Anne smiled. "He's not going anywhere. His bike's wrecked. Besides, he doesn't know it but I can follow his GPS program."

She heard the smile in his voice. "Where did you learn that?"

"John wasn't just an Oncologist: he was a computer geek. He passed that along to me. I've wired his system so I can follow that bike wherever he goes."

"And he's not going to leave without it either. Smart girl." Wilson chuckled.

"Why of course." Her hotel phone rang, startling the living daylights out of her.

"Anne? Are you ok?"

Anne stared at the ringing phone for a few beats then said, "Hold on Jimmy. I gotta get the phone." She put her cell phone down and picked up the hotel phone. "Hello?"

"Miss me?" It was House. Anne rolled her eyes then, spying the speaker button, pressed it and laid the handset back on the cradle.

"You know it baby. It's the cane: I've stayed up nights thinking about what that long, shiny piece of wood could do to me."

"Actually," House chuckled sinisterly, "I've got another long, shiny piece of wood I'd like to introduce to you."

Not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he'd done nothing but made her upset, she ignored the comment. "How did you know where I am?"

"I have my sources." She suddenly spied the mute button and, wanting to inform Jimmy of the situation, she needed to talk to him. Fortunately, she had her chance when House said, "Hold on a minute…Canada's lying naked over me and I don't think she should be in the room while you and I have phone sex." PAUSE. "Perhaps she could join us."

"No, that's ok. I'll hold on." Anne pressed the Mute button and grabbed her cell phone.

"Jimmy, did you hear that?"

He was chuckling. "Yep. I'll stay on the phone. This should get interesting."

"Hold on." Anne placed the cell phone next to the room phone…

*****

_Meanwhile, in House's hotel room, he was alone with Canada. He'd explained to his parents they would have to talk the next day. He was tired and they had plans. They'd agreed to meet for lunch._

_Laying down the receiver, House made a very grave mistake, which was something he rarely did: House, intending to hit the hold button, inadvertently hit the speaker button. Turning to Canada, who was fully clothed by the way, and listening to Anne and House's entire conversation, he took her arm and moved her to the door. _

*****

Just as Anne depressed the Mute button, she heard voices coming over the phone. "I've got to lose the spy. She's crampin' my style. How soon can you have the bike done?"

Anne's mouth dropped. _I wonder if he knows I can hear him,_ she wondered, silently of course. There was no way she was giving away her crucial position.

"The part came in late this afternoon, much sooner than they told me. We'll have it done tomorrow." Canada's uncertain voice faded in the background.

_I wonder how Canada feels about all this. Don't tell me she still wants to sleep with the ogre._

"Good. I'll leave tomorrow night. I've got to dump the broad."

_BROAD????!!!_ Anne huffed incredulously to herself. _The nerve. Oh, this is one ride he'll NEVER forget…I'll make sure of it. In fact..._ the lightbulb over Anne's head flipped on suddenly. _JERRY!_ _His shop is around here. I'll just take him up on that promise of a new bike._ Anne's heart swelled with grief as she remembered that promise Jerry made to John before he was diagnosed with cancer. She didn't have much time to concentrate on her grief because Canada spoke just then.

"Are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, it's obvious she just wants to help you. Besides, it gets lonely on the road. You might need a traveling companion."

"What do I look like, Peter Fonda? I'm not Jack Nicholson and this isn't _Easy Rider_. I ride alone."

Anne didn't catch Canada's response because her plan was taking shape: get the new bike, a new wardrobe, even hair color. Be mysterious and coy so he'll never realize it's her. _And not be so inconspicuous. Geez, I might as well have waved a flag saying, "Hey, it's Anne and I'm following you." Gotta work on that._

Just then the phone clicked and House was back on. "Ok, I'm ready for sex. What are you wearing?"

_I've gotta put a stop to that…and real quick._ "House, I wouldn't have any sort of sex with you, in ANY POSSIBLE WAY, as long as the earth is round and turning on an axis."

He made a gasping noise. "You wound me. You really do." He sighed dramatically and completely arrogantly. "Just know I'm gonna spend all night thinking of you and what you could do to me…I mean, with me…" his voice trailed off, sounding almost as if he was falling off a cliff, a kind of whining noise.

"I'm hanging up right now," Anne said.

"Fine. See you tomorrow." And, with that, CLICK went the phone.

Anne sighed, made sure the phone was completely hung up, then turned back to Jimmy, still on her cell.

"Jimmy? Are you still there?"

"I told you he was going to bolt. Now what will you do?"

"I have a cunning plan." And, laughing, Anne relayed her dastardly plan, leaving Jimmy laughing and congratulating her ingenuity.

*****

_Meanwhile…_

"_Come here," House groaned deeply and limped over to Canada, who was still in the room, watching him incredulously, not quite believing what he was doing or saying. She was resolved not to spend the night with him and turned on her heel, attempting to flee the room. But, for a man with a cane, House was quite agile and light on his feet. He grabbed her hand, spun her around, firmly pulled her to him and plastered his mouth on hers. Her reluctant arm movements and attempts to move back, out of his arms, ceased when his hands began roaming, feeling his way all over his prey. _

_It didn't take long for his prey to surrender to his bait. Her moans and sighs kick-started his intense and mounting desire for a much more intimate contact into overdrive. He turned her toward the bed and gently prodded her backwards toward it as he began working the buttons on her shirt. His body tingled with heightened sensitivity and his breathing became even labored as she fought with the belt buckle before falling backwards onto the bed…  
_*****


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The next morning, House awoke with Canada in his arms. For a brief moment, he was a bit startled to find her. It quickly evaporated as memories of the previous night's activities filtered through the foggy haze of sleep. This brought him to a full, deep awareness, sending a shuddering eagerness throughout his body. He studied the woman whose head sat under his chin: the long, tangled mass of thick brown hair; long curling lashes that kissed the tops of her slightly-freckled tan cheeks; the interesting mix of creamy and olive skin. His eyes traveled lower and were delighted to find how the bed sheet had slid off her naked form during the night. _Must've kicked it off in her sleep,_ he mused, taking in the sloping curves of her well-toned body. His mind…and his hands…began roaming, anxious to relive those moments that had popped him so awake this morning.

"Mmmm…" the sleeping beauty murmured, her breathy voice tickling his chest. His "eagerness" just hit NASCAR velocity. Her head popped up, sleep clouding her eyes, her eyes looking around. She looked perplexed at something. "What was that?"

"Well," House began, uncomfortably shifting his, um, alert body a bit away from Canada. He kinda hoped she wasn't alert enough to notice. "you already know what that is. You met him last night. That's Little Greg."

"I certainly did. And it was a very…interesting…meeting. But what was that last night? And, wait? 'Little Greg'?"

House's eyebrow lifted. "Very interesting? Just what do you mean by that? And, of course, 'Little Greg'. You might be surprised to learn that the majority of men have given names to their "better halves"." Canada rolled her eyes at "better halves"…she'd seen ample evidence, in her life, to the contrary. "As for what that was last night, I could draw you a diagram but I could give you a real-life comparison. Ok, Little Greg arrives at Canada's house for a visit. Now, he could just knock and politely wait for admittance; he could quietly let himself in without knocking or just barge in, unannounced. How Little Greg enters the house all depends on his mood. Sometimes he's…"

Canada sat up, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she's stark naked, and quickly holds up her hands. It was clear the real-life comparison wasn't necessary. "Stop right there. I get it. I didn't mean the actions. I meant, WHAT was that? Obviously we don't have a future. Was that my loneliness? Your "drive"? Our weakness?"

House pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard, first studying her face but his eyes quickly following the instructions of his hormones, taking in the rest of her body that was visible to him. "Maybe you're just another notch in my bedpost. I mean, I am roaming the country, supposedly on the pretense that I'm visiting America before I die. Why not nibble on the local fruit?"

For most women, this would be the part where they would get mad, slap the man across the face, call him a pig, grab their clothes and run out in anger and mortification. In this case, Canada saw something on House's face that told her he did find her attractive but he also knew it was just for this time. And she was saddened…perhaps for what could've been. Perhaps for giving of herself so completely that night, more than she'd remember giving of herself before. Or perhaps she was sad this man was dying and that this was truly the only time she'd be part of this extraordinary, well, whenever he wasn't obnoxious, man's life. Either way, she really wasn't mad. She went into this with her eyes open.

And, she'd be the first to admit, she liked what she had seen.

"Perhaps this was a mistake," Canada muttered and rolled to the edge of the bed.

"Was I your favorite mistake?"

"Thank you, Sheryl Crow, for those touching words," Canada snarked as House moved to the opposite side of the bed. "Would it help your ego to know you were amazing?"

House stopped, his head lifting with pride. Canada rolled her eyes but stopped as she watched his form get off the bed and limp across the hotel room, grabbing for a knapsack. Her breath hitched as he continued to move around. _**Well, if I were to make a juicy mistake, this man would be the one. Wowie.**_

"Get dressed," he called over his shoulder. "I need the bike tonight, before Anne can catch up. Besides, I've got to have lunch with my parents." He sighed. "Oh, THAT should be good." He snarked.

For some reason, Canada's demeanor changed with his seemingly quick dismissal of her. _**Why are you even upset?**_ She asked herself as she located her under things. _**You know he's going to leave soon. But why did you do it?**_

_**I wanted it...him…from the moment I rolled out from under that truck and saw his amazing body, those incredible blue eyes…even that cane. How does he even make THAT sexy?**_

He had disappeared into the bathroom, the shower already running. _**He'll be back…I'll see him again. Just one more time. Then he'll be gone…and soon he'll be gone for good.**_

_**Five months, that's all he has.**_

She crept out of the room, vowing to quickly get the bike done so he could just ride out. She had all day to work this out: time enough to start mending the ripping of her heart at his departure, at his situation, at the amazing night they'd shared.

But could she honestly convince herself to do this? She didn't know.

And the tear running down her cheek told her she didn't want to either.  
*****


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_The rain fell, hot and heavy, stinging his face and setting each nerve ending on fire. As hard as he tried, House couldn't entirely focus on the happenings all around him…_

_Ok…what he DID know for sure was he was sitting on his motorcycle in the middle of a deserted parking lot…it was raining…_

_and SHE was walking…no, wait, GLIDING… towards him. _

_For some inexplicable reason, he was mad. He didn't want to see her…perhaps her betrayal was too much._ _**And I'm going to make sure she knows that…by whatever means necessary.**_

"_What are you doing here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes not only against the rain but against the sheer radiation of her beauty…despite the rain._

_She stopped about six feet from him and, with a raised eyebrow, crossed her arms in front of her. "Why? Do you want me to leave?"_

"_Yes," he answered resolutely… "No."_

_She smirked and stepped even closer…and he gulped when he finally saw what she was wearing. Ice blue eyes took in every curve of her body through the wet, sheer white cotton sundress that clung perfectly to her even more perfect body: the shape of the ripe breasts just begging for a nip from his succulent lips; her hips, fully curved despite her small stature, sloping into a soft lushness; legs lean; more-green-than-blue eyes glistening from the moisture. _

_He suddenly wished the rain was cold…his urgency strained way too quickly. Before he could say anything she slowly moved her hips, her hands sliding her dress hem higher and higher up her thighs, their rhythm unknown but hardly unwelcome to House. He became momentarily dizzy as her hands dropped the dress hem and slid up her body, cupping her breasts, kneeding them slowly. Her moans nearly did him in._

_Finally finding his voice, he coughed and barked, "What are you doing?"_

"_Doesn't the rain feel good?" She purred as she stood almost on top of him then turned…where he finally discovered, definitively, that she was completely naked under that sheer dress._

_Before he knew it, with her back still to him, she grabbed the hem and whipped that dress off…and he nearly fell off the bike._

_Despite the desire that suddenly grew hundred-fold, In all honesty, he really didn't understand the situation in front of him…the hazy, rainy, deserted parking lot. _

_He became uncomfortable. _

_Not because he'd never seen a stripper…or a naked woman…or a wet naked woman…or a wet naked stripper. No, he'd seen…and ENJOYED… all of those. And he was never uncomfortable when it came to the female body, especially one as amazing as this one._

_No, he was uncomfortable because it was…_

_her._

_The fact that this situation bothered him was what compounded the bothering. He knew, as an act of male pride and revenge, he should __**take**__ from her…take hard and fast. After all, she lied and deceived him. He should've felt free to do with her as he pleased._

_But he couldn't._

_Was it because she was Cousin Wilson and that she'd run to her older cousin like a tattle-tale? _

_No…it was because, for all her deceit, he respected her. And the last person he'd actually respected left him high and dry, lying on a bed as he writhed in pain. He remembered it vividly: Stacy claimed she was running to the store for a quart of milk._ _**That was some milk,**_ _he thought bitterly._

_Because she never came back._

_The woman turned back around, one arm holding her breasts in a semi-decent fashion, the other hand covering her hidden treasure. He gulped and stared. _

_He was going to do it…he was going to make her PAY for everything he was suffering…for the cancer…for the deceit…for the miserable state of his life...for his leg…for the hideous price of gas. _

_He didn't care…someone needed to suffer for his injustice, for everything unfair in his miserable life. _

_His fingertips grazed the soft skin of her arms just as a horrendous thunderclap lit the sky…_

And House was startled back to real life.

And what was real life? It was a hot shower, quickly becoming colder…the thunderclap must've been the thud of the bath soap that lingered around the tub's drain.

His brain finally processed what was happening and what he did: he was in the shower; Canada had just left after their night of amazing sex…

And he was being seduced by another woman…at least, in his dreams.

Anne Donaldson…the turncoat…Jimmy's spy…

The woman he finally, in real life, realized he'd respected.

He was suddenly thrown for a loop…so much so he leaned over, turned off the water and sat in the wet but empty tub.

Why was he dreaming about another woman after a night of animal, passionate, lusty sex? He always had sex thoughts and visions after the real thing, hooker or otherwise. That wasn't what bothered him…it bothered him. That's what bothered him.

He also realized he didn't feel guilty about dreaming of another woman after Canada…though deep down, Mr. Conscience was slapping his guilty feelings, attempting to whip them into shape and get him to feel the proper response. No, instead of feeling like he betrayed Canada…

He felt he betrayed Anne.

And that was one mystery he couldn't solve.  
*****


	28. Chapter 27

**_Chapter 27 Leaving LA…well, San Diego really…_**

After a horrible confrontation with his parents (that was nothing new…all his meetings with Mama and Papa House turned out to be disasters), House headed out. His destination:

Viva Las Vegas! Home of girls…booze…showgirls…gambling…naked girls dancing on stage…_(anyone notice a pattern here?)_

As he raced down the highway, he thought back to his parting with Canada, who, for some reason, didn't seem all that upset that he was leaving. In fact, she seemed kind of relieved as she handed him the keys and finished his transaction. _'And after the best sex she'll ever have, you'd think she'd be falling on her knees, begging me to take her with me. Isn't anyone GRATEFUL for anything anymore? Well, at least she'll have something to flaunt to her girlfriends, how she got to sleep with the GREAT Dr. Gregory House.'_

Suddenly his head began to throb…Mr. Conscience just knocked him upside the head with his rubber mallet. "**You selfish ba****d. It's ALL ABOUT YOU, isn't it?"**

He rolled his eyes and jammed on the accelerator, surging him further down the highway. _"Of course it's all about me…are you just NOW realizing that?"_

This little argument between himself and Mr. Conscience continued and almost managed to completely distract him from the rider suddenly pulling beside him on that lonely two-lane highway.

Almost.

No amount of arguing in existence could've completely distracted him from the sight coming side-to-side with him. The noise alone woke him out of his internal revelry. Straddling a pitch-black Harley Davidson 5-speed, fuel-injected power-train and dual-exhaust VRSCDX Night-Rod Special, the rider was slim but tall. Long, straggly bleach-blond hair whipped underneath a blood-red shiny helmet, decorated with tacky orange and white flames on each side. The rider, obviously a woman, wore a tattered black Harley-Davidson leather jacket, blue plaid shirt underneath the leather jacket, blue jeans with black leather chaps, clunky Doc Martens and worn black riding gloves.

"_What is it with me and women bike riders?"_ He muttered to himself as he took a moment to admire the bike. After all, this woman repulsed him for some reason. Her clothes were tattered; her manner gruff as she handled the brand new bike. But it was this very reason that suddenly had him intrigued: she wasn't dressed for her new bike. After all, if you get a new toy, especially one that requires you actually being in it, or on it, you've gotta look the part. _"Maybe she's one of those tough motorcycle chicks that stole the bike and is wanted in 10 states."_

Deciding he wasn't about to ask her, he sped up, leaving her in his dust. And this was how they were for the rest of the time: she a half-a-mile behind him; he riding and wondering why this woman, who so obviously repulsed him _('If you saw her, she'd repulse you too'_, he added his silent narrative), compelled him to use all of his deductive reasoning to figure her out.

If he only knew.

*****

Annie chuckled as she watched him consider her, then the bike then speed away. She knew he was curious and probably bewildered about why another woman driver was following him.

She was so happy with herself…and very happy with Jerry. That man was a gem. He got her the clothes, the bike (which was WAY out of her league but Jerry seemed to think it suited her), the helmet, even the blonde wig.

With this new get-up came new responsibilities…and new tactics on how to handle the target (House). She wouldn't reveal herself: she'd be stealthy and secretive.

And being secretive meant following House wherever he went and blending in with whatever environment she was in. She briefly wondered about how she looked in a jeweled showgirl's bra. For some reason, she knew it might come down to that.

Five years ago she'd have said, "No freakin' way."

Now?

"Let the games begin," she muttered as she kept an eye on the bike a distance in front of her. He stirred her in a way no other had before…and that wasn't necessarily a good stirring either.

*****


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**San Diego, CA to Las Vegas, NV: 5 hours; 332 miles;**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 3,540**

"VIVA LAS VEGAS! VIVA LAS VEGAS! VIIIIVAAAA, UH, VIIIIVAAAA, UH, LAAASSS VEEEEEGAAAAS!" House sang as he rolled into that town, his Elvis impression quite impressive. "Thank you, thank you very much!" he spoke to his nonexistent crowd. It was 8:30 at night and the sky might've been dark but that Las Vegas Strip was lit with so many tiny, gaudy lights, it was probably visible from Mars.

Rolling up to The Mirage, he parked, hopped off, gathered his belongings and hobbled on inside, knowing perfectly well he had no reservation. What did that matter? He had ways of getting what he wanted.

The front desk clerk took one look at him and braced herself. The girl, all of about 21, had never seen anything like him: tall, scruffy, lanky old guy, hobbling with a cane, carrying a knapsack and…a Harley Davidson Teddy Bear? _'Wait 'til Bobby hears about this. And he thinks my job is boring.'_ Plastering on her most confident smile, she said, "Welcome to the Mirage. How are you this evening?"

House internally smirked. _'This oughta be good.'_ Sighing, he leaned against the counter. Turning Gregorio around so the cute little guy was staring at the girl, House began his most impressive acting job to date. "I just don't know. See," he sighed again, this time more dramatic. "I'm on a cross-country trip to see my grandson." _'Grandson?!?! Maybe that was a bit much. I mean, who's gonna believe I'm old enough to have a grandson?'_

*****

"**You heartless, conniving…" Mr. Conscience growled.** **"You're going straight to hell for this one."**

"_**Empty threat," successfully shushing his conscience. "Tell me something I don't already know."**_

Mr. Conscience just threw his hands up and walked away. He'd had enough of Dr. Gregory House. **"I need a permanent vacation. I think I'll go to Bermuda." **

*****

That poor girl…she instantly melted, thinking she was about to hear a truly heartwarming story. And House could read her like an open book. _'Oh, I SO have her.'_

Still eyeing the bear, the girl asked, "Really? Why?"

Mustering up a tear (_'Yeah, I'm THAT good'_), he swiped it away and said, "He's dying of leukemia, and I'm riding my motorcycle from New Jersey to his hospital room in Oregon (_'Ok, that was partially right…the riding-the-motorcycle part anyway'_), picking up souvenirs along the way. He said he wanted something from each state I drove through."

He paused and sniffled, producing another fake crocodile tear. Her face turned sad and she sniffled, genuine tears forming. "I wasn't going to stop in Vegas because I really need to get to his hospital bed," he wiped his nose. "but he insisted I stop and rest. I mean, I've been on the road for almost two weeks. That kid," he sighed and shook his head in admiration. "that kid thinks more of everyone else than himself. He told me, "Paw-paw, (he calls me "Paw-Paw") I love you. You do so much for me. Take a vacation. I'll be here, waiting for you." How could I refuse a dying boy's wish, especially when he's my only child's only child?" House looked away, mustering the "courage" to move on.

"Unfortunately," he sighed and rubbed his "tired" eyes. "I don't have a reservation and I chose THIS hotel because you have the White Tigers. He was insistent on me getting pictures of the White Tigers. Besides, this little guy" he pointed to Gregorio "is getting lonely and I thought a stuffed White Tiger could keep him company."

That girl was sucked in quicker than spilled Cheerios into a Dyson. Her smile genuinely lit her face and, with a look of intense concentration, turned to her computer screen. After some fancy keystrokes, she grinned and turned to House who was watching her intently. "You are in luck: I have a recent cancellation. The Penthouse is available for two nights. Normally that's $1500 per night but, since you're on a mission of mercy, I can give it to you for $500."

House grinned thankfully. He'd heard about the Penthouse suite at The Mirage and knew he was getting away with a steal. Sighing with relief, his "burdened shoulders" lifted, as if she'd solved all her problems. "Bless you. You have no idea how your goodwill has soothed my lonely heart and made my grandson's dreams come true."

She blushed and finished his transaction. A well-dressed luggage porter showed up to lead him to his room. With a parting smile to the girl, he turned, his smirk hidden but huge.

'_I am THAT good.'_

*****

Hobbling through the door, House whistled at the one-bedroom, top-floor Penthouse suite. Richly adorned with artwork and floor-to-ceiling windows, that suite just REEKED of money. Finding his way into the most important room of any dwelling (quite obviously the bedroom, where MANY a transaction occurs), he found a canopied king size bed adorned with silk sheets and many pillows.

"_Just the way I like it," _House remarked, throwing himself butt-first into it. He only wished he had two good legs: he wanted to jump on it. Sitting on the corner, he had an amazing view of the bathroom: marble accents, double-sink vanity, whirlpool jet bathtub (_'Oh yeah,'_ he thought, his mind…and Little Greggie…raced as he thought of how beautiful the showgirls would look in that hot tub.) and glass-enclosed shower (_'Even better. I could WATCH them shower from the comfort of my bed. Thank God this cancer hasn't affected my libido. If anything, it's actually IMPROVING it. I've never felt this, shall I say, HAPPY, in a long, long time.'_)

Looking at Gregorio, who had quite the view from the top of an end-table by the front door, he yelled, "What do you think, Greggie: you, me, a couple of girls, livin' the highlife, right here? We could make it our own bachelor pad, a constant stream of girls and bear-chicks. Whatcha say partner?"

Suddenly, and inexplicably, the roller-derby girl popped into his mind…and the promise to himself to never have one-night stands again. After all, he never wanted one-night stands in the first place: that's why he hired hookers: they take care of the physical needs. Period. End of story. _And those girls have gotta put themselves through law school, right?_ At least, this was his justification. _The girl's just trying to make a better life for herself._

"**Mr. Conscience?" **he asked, thereby interrupting his mental justification.** "Is that you?"** The sound of silence had never been so deafening. **"Oh come on. You've got to be there. I NEVER have a moral or proper thought without you cramming it down my throat."**

Silence persisted. **"Ok, that's not fair. Are you sure you didn't leave a substitute conscience? Maybe the pet dog?"** He mentally recoiled. **"Oh Good God. That WAS my thought! This cancer is REALLY made me…not me. I mean, I'm TALKING to my conscience, actually LOOKING for it."**

He came to a realization: his Conscience, while rarely communicating with it, was always there. Perhaps he'd even taken comfort in it. And now? Now he felt strangely…alone. It really HAD kept him company. Inexplicably realizing he couldn't make his own choices without his conscience lurking SOMEWHERE around, he laid back on the bed, in a daze…

…which quickly turned into guilt…GUILT! He jumped off the bed, knowing he was in this room under false pretenses. And he was actually GUILTY about it.

"Ok, that's it," he exclaimed. Rummaging through his knapsack, he located, and dry swallowed, his cancer medication and headed out the door. "I think I just need to get drunk. Maybe I can drown this morality out of my head."

Grabbing an elevator and slipping inconspicuously out the front door (poor girl…she was being yelled at by some woman in very broken English/fluent Chinese), he hopped on his motorcycle and took off for…he didn't know where. Fortunately for him, he found a reputable (looking) theater with a sign that read "FEATURING VEGAS SHOWGIRLS!" Securing the bike and the knapsack, he grabbed his cane and hobbled toward the entrance…completely oblivious of the Harley that parked a few spaces down. It was Anne.

*****


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"How did I KNOW he'd wind up here?" She mumbled though, secretly, she was actually rather glad. Anne had always wondered what it would be like to be a showgirl. It was a secret fantasy, one that not even her rather clean-cut husband ever knew.

Quickly pulling off her wig and over clothes, Anne shook out her thick hair. Grabbing her oversized purse from a side pouch, she looked for a side entrance, the entrance for the girls. Already having a story worked out (since she just KNEW House would go to a show. A man like House doesn't come to Vegas without visiting a show. It's like written in his DNA or something.), she confidently walked to the side door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked and she made her way backstage.

Finding a girl in a bejeweled outfit, so skimpy it made the metal bikini from "Return of the Jedi" look like a nun's habit, she asked rather shyly, "Hi. My name is Anne. I'm the new girl and I need some help. Where do I go? What do I do?"

The girl smiled, almost genuinely happy to see "the new blood". "Hi! My name is Maryanne, but you can call me Mixy. Everyone else does." the girl said and stuck out her hand to shake. She was a bit hard to understand, given the noise from backstage and her thick accent.

"Hi Mixy. Are you Australian?" She nodded happily as Anne shook her hand. "You're a long way from home."

Mixy sighed and nodded again. "I know. The story is too long and too complicated. Meanwhile, let's get you ready. Right this way." She took Anne's arm and led her to the very busy dressing room. There were half-naked women everywhere. No, that was wrong…they were three-quarters naked. Suddenly feeling inadequate, she considered trying to back out of it when Mixy directed her to a rack of outfits. "What size are you?"

Anne, almost afraid to answer for fear of being ridiculed, squeaked out, "Four."

"Same as me. Here we are: this will go lovely with your beautiful hair." Mixy looked at Anne's breasts, through the rather snug blue t-shirt. "And you've got the breasts for it. You'll be gorgeous. Come on, I'll help you get changed." With each passing step; each scrutinizing glance at the women around her; and each scrutinizing glance FROM the women around her, brought her one step closer to…just…bolting from that place.

'_What are you THINKING, Anne? This was a dumb idea, following House this way. You could've just stayed in the audience but NOOOO. You had to live out your fantasy. Just hope you don't flash a breast while you're up there.'_ Anne was so busy berating herself she failed to register Mixy's tugging her into a dressing room. They both stood in the room: Mixy waiting patiently for Anne; and Anne, holding up what amounted to be strips of sequins, trying to figure out how to put the thing on.

Mixy studied the horror on Anne's face. "Is this the first time you've ever been a showgirl?"

Anne nodded. _'At least I wasn't lying there.'_

"And you're scared to death, aren't you?"

Anne nodded again then added, "Can you stick me in the back, underneath the dimmest lights you have?"

Mixy smiled. "Doubtful. How about this? I'll turn around and, when you feel comfortable enough, I'll turn back around and finish getting you ready. How's that?"

Anne nodded and Mixy spun around. Anne began undressing. Once she was completely naked (_'It's a good thing I splurged on that bikini wax. From the looks of this outfit, I needed it. Perhaps I should've gotten a Brazilian.'_), she gently removed the costume from its hanger and began untangling it, trying to locate where to put her legs.

"So, Mixy," Anne decided to make small-talk, in an effort to ignore the screaming logic in her brain. _'STOP THIS NONSENSE! STOP! STOP! STOP!'_. "How did you become a showgirl?"

"Long story short: I wound up broke in Las Vegas and ended up here. That's about it. And you?"

"Well, I've always wanted to be one. I no longer have any ties with family or career so I came out here…and this is my first job."

"How's it coming?" Mixy asked.

"The job or the costume?"

Mixy chuckled. "The costume."

Anne looked at herself in the mirror. _'At least my vital parts are covered…somewhat.'_ What she saw took her breath away…and made her wish for instantaneous liposuction: tiny strips crisscrossed her breasts, just barely covering her nipples. And her nether region? Just use your imagination.

"I think I'm done…except it's very drafty."

Mixy chuckled and turned around. "You look great! And you got it on right the first time! Lucky you…it takes most of us girls quite awhile to figure some of these costumes out." She turned me around. Rearranging and plucking, Mixy fitted the costume to her satisfaction…but certainly not to Anne's. She felt…naked. Exposed. And absolutely stupid. '_If James ever found out I did this…'_

"Let's get you some shoes and a headdress, then you'll be ready for make-up. Follow me."

'_Oh no. What have I done?'_

*****

Anne was put through hair, makeup and headpiece and shoe fittings. Suddenly there was a musical cue and bedlam broke out, complete with screaming women, flapping costumes and clanking shoes. Mixy leaned down to Anne. "That's our cue. Fortunately for you, I got you put in the back, on a high riser, so you don't have to worry. Most of the audience doesn't notice what's not right in front of them anyway so just follow our lead and you should do great." Giving Anne a surprise hug of encouragement, Mixy led her to her spot in the procession and then took her own place.

And, so it went: following the person in front of her, like a herd of cattle, Anne walked out on stage, behind the lowered curtain, and improvised a spot. Apparently it was good enough because nobody questioned her. Applause and music roared…and suddenly the curtain rose…

*****

Though not quite sure she was imitating everything she saw the others doing even halfway correctly, Anne was just happy she'd remembered those four years of tap and ballet she'd had as a kid. They really did come in handy. What she failed to take into consideration was how truly out of shape she was…and she started feeling that very quickly.

She did have a very good view of the half-filled theater's audience and spotted House right away, fifth row back, middle section. The headpiece blocked out most of her hair so, unless you were right up close to Anne, you'd never have known it was her, at least her face anyway. Breathing a sigh of relief, she noticed House seemingly entranced by a couple of dancers on the other side of the stage.

One other thing she didn't take into account: the dancers shifted from one side of the stage to the other. Keeping both eyes on House, Anne's eyes widened when she caught House's eyes but, before anyone could react, a loud, booming, authoritative voice pulsated over the loudspeaker:

**THIS IS A RAID! EVERYONE HERE IS UNDER ARREST FOR THE EMPLOYMENT OF UNDERAGE GIRLS!!**

Chaos ensued as the place went ape crazy. The girls screamed and ran in every which direction; the audience members belted each other with programs, umbrellas…canes…in an effort to get away.

Unfortunately it wasn't enough and, before either could do anything about it, Anne and House were arrested.

*****


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"But, officer, I'm not even a showgirl!"

An hour later, Anne was sitting in the interrogation room of the LVPD, being questioned/gawked at by a rather handsome senior lieutenant, Lt. Fielding, mid 40s, and a green, junior police officer, with chubby red checks, Officer Holden, probably in his late 20s.

Lt. Fielding sighed and rubbed his eyes. After all, she seemed like a decent person who wouldn't normally get wrapped up in something like this. Quite frankly, he was rather mystified. "Then why were you on stage, dressed like that, shaking your ta-tas?"

Um…Anne had to think of something…and FAST. Then…it suddenly came to her. Anne covered her face in mortification. Yep…she was going to be just as bad as House. _'And I'm about to LIE to the police. I'm SO gonna hang for this one.'_ Unlike House, Anne didn't need her conscience to remind her of this…she was already best friends with her conscience. Amazingly enough, lying to the police wasn't as hard as she always thought it would be. The lie just seemed to flow from her.

With her head still in her hands, Anne bent forward and began her muffled "explanation". "It's my husband. See, he's a sex addict and I've followed him here, to Vegas."

"Why's he in Vegas?"

"Business. I just couldn't leave him alone. Every time he goes out of town, I just KNOW he hasn't been faithful. I needed to know why I can't satisfy him. What makes it worse is that he's dying of stomach cancer. We only have a short amount of time but he wanted to continue living and working as if he wasn't sick. And I wanted his life to be rich and full before…it…" Anne couldn't continue as she broke into tears, real tears, as she thought of the husband she lost to cancer years before. This whole situation really did hit close to home. Those nice policemen, taking pity on her, handed her a tissue, for which she nodded her thanks. After sniffling and wiping her eyes, Anne continued.

"I decided to follow him, to find out what he was doing. A woman does know when something isn't right, intimately, between her and her man. I found out he likes showgirls and decided to spy on him. I knew it was wrong but…I couldn't help it. I mean," Anne leaned forward, still sniffling but alert enough to give the very observant men a good eyeful of her breasts, "I wanted him to notice me. You see, he's my first love, the only man I've ever been with, sexually and emotionally. And to lose him now, just before he dies, would crush my already grieving spirit." Anne began shredding the tissue in a million pieces, all the while her mind screaming, _'I'm SO going down for this, I'm SO going down for this. I can't die in prison.'_ "I wanted to show him that he doesn't need to look at other women, that I would do anything to satisfy his addiction."

At "anything", both men's eyebrows shot up with disbelief…and a bit of jealousy. Clearing his throat, Officer Holden, still staring at her breasts, nodded emphatically. "I can't possibly understand why the man would stray from you. I mean, has he even SEEN you in that getup?"

"Charlie!" Lt. Fielding reprimanded him…but was thinking the same thing himself. He turned back to the weeping Anne. "Look, if we bring him in here, will you talk to him, try and work this out? From what I can see, you are a very respectable woman and I don't want to see your life ruined by a stunt like this."

She looked up at him, her eyes hopeful. He nodded and they left, returning a few minutes later. Anne turned when she heard the door open.

"What are you TALKING about?!?! I'm not married!" House bellowed…then took one look at Anne and his face dropped in absolutely astonishment…and very obvious interest! "YOU!" he pointed to her and shrieked at her breasts, since his eyes were too distracted to find hers. "What are you doing here? And why are you wearing THAT!"

Anne interrupted him before he could go any further. "Sir, can I have a moment alone with my husband? A PRIVATE moment? This is a very delicate matter and his reputation as a brilliant doctor is on the line."

Lt. Fielding, with compassion written all over his face, nodded quickly, reached for a button and turned it off, then walked out the door. When they'd gone, she grabbed the completely dumbfounded House in a hug. Turning her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "If you want to stay out of jail, act like we're married. I told him I was your wife and you're a sex addict. I dressed as a showgirl to keep tabs on my cheating husband. I think they're on the verge of letting us go, just don't blow it. Just follow my lead, ok?"

House, too stunned to even question what was really happening, just nodded dumbly. Pulling away from her, he just couldn't get enough of the spectacle of…her…standing in front of him. He'd always noticed her killer body and did hope, one day, to see it…but this was more than he could've hoped (or dreamed). For a moment, he wondered if Wilson swapped his cancer drugs for a hallucinogenic and that he was floating on a magic mushroom to someplace warm and very inviting.

Just in case the cops were REALLY listening, she had to do whatever it took to not blow the cover. Anne sat down, facing the two-way mirror. House, quickly catching on, sat across from her, his back to the mirror. She covered her face with her hands. "Honey, I want you to stop this! Your sexual addiction is hurting us, our marriage…and it's pulling me apart. And what about the children, Eric, Robert and Cameron? Your sister Lisa, living in the convent in Myrtle Beach? Do you really want them to know their beloved Greg is a dying sex fiend?" She paused and looked up at him with a truly pitiful and sad face.

House involuntarily choked at the reference to his hospital-mates but couldn't help the tiny smirk tugging on his mouth. She just kept getting better and better. Suddenly allowing his face to fall, he looked down at his "nervous" hands. He'd never thought he'd have so much fun on a road trip. _'Damn. I should've done this sooner.'_ "I'm sorry baby. I just can't help it. You know my addictive personality." Anne's face fell into her hands again and she began whimpering. House had to work hard to keep himself from laughing. Holding up his hand, he began counting off with his fingers. "First it was _Speed Racer_; next it was women's hats." The whimpering escalated. "Baby, don't complain. I mean, you got some great hats out of the deal. Now it's sex. You know I'll just move from one addiction to another."

"But WHY can't you be addicted to me?"

House tilted his head in contemplation and looked down the costume his "wife" was wearing. "I'm thinking I am now." She sat back and narrowed her eyes inconspicuously.

"What do you mean?"

His gaze roved her body in hunger as he said, "You keep that costume and I SWEAR I'll never sleep with another woman."

Now she knew he'd turn the tables on her power. She needed to up the ante. "Only if you wear a Roman toga to bed tonight. I have my own fantasies you know."

He narrowed his eyes but seeing the challenge in hers slowly nodded. "Fine. I'm…I'm sorry baby. I never meant to hurt you. I do love you." He stood up and limped around the table. She sighed and stood up as well. They fell into each others arms. He whispered in her ear. "We have to kiss."

"No we don't."

"Yes, we do. They are watching."

"How do you know?"

"They're cheering." And House was right: faint cheering could be heard from behind the two-way mirror. Anne sighed quietly and nodded. House pulled away, looked at her mouth…and let a genuine emotion escape: his desire to kiss her. Running with that, she moved her hands to his face and, cradling it, stood on tiptoe, allowing her lips to suckle his top scruffy one. An involuntary moan came from the locked couple (neither knew who was the moaner…it might've been in perfect unison) but they suddenly moved frantically closer together, sucking as if they couldn't get enough.

The door burst open and the beaming cops ran in. "That was wonderful! You two really are a great couple. You are free to go, after you pay the lockup fee."

This broke the smooching couple apart. "Lockup fee? But we were only in there two hours!" Anne exclaimed. She really didn't know if she heard right. After all, her brain was still scrambled from that lip lock. _'What a kisser,'_ she thought, embarrassed to even look at him.

The lieutenants were apologetic. "I'm sorry but its $500."

"$500! WHAT IS THIS, THE RITZ JAIL!" House blew up. Anne quickly had to defuse the situation.

"It's ok, honey. Just pay the people and we can go."

"But I didn't bring my wallet."

"WHAT?!?!" It was Anne's turn to blow up, this time at her "husband". "You went to see showgirls and you don't have your wallet?"

"I had just enough cash. You pay them."

Now she was flabbergasted. Pirouetting, the men got a very close look at her costume and Anne could've sworn all the air was sucked from the room by their inhalations of, well, excitement. "Does it look like I have pockets?"

Officer Holden, once again, picked a terrible time to interject his comments. "Well, actually…"

"Fine," Anne began again, hoping to defuse THAT comment. "I'll call cousin Jimmy. He's the only one who understands you. He won't be surprised to hear we're calling from jail." She turned to the lieutenants. "Can I use the phone?"

They nodded but, just as they left, handed her a blanket they'd brought with them. "Here, you'd better wear this." She nodded her thanks and they followed them to the payphone.

*****


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"DALE A TU CUERPO ALEGRIA, MACARENA. HEY! MACARENA!"

At "MACARENA!" Wilson's head shot up off the hotel bed. He grabbed his cell phone, which still rang "HEY MACARENA!", and looked at the caller ID. "702 area code?" he mumbled. "Where's that?"

It was then he read "LAS VEGAS POLICE DEPARTMENT" on the screen and gasped.

"Jimmy? Who is it, baby?" A sleepy, high-pitched voice whined.

"I think House just got himself arrested," Wilson mumbled to the woman beside him, the newest nurse in neonatal who had the biggest hooters he'd ever seen.

"Let it ring," she mumbled, her hand traveling south.

"I just CAAAAAN'T," his voice rose five octaves when her hand found its destination. He was sooo close to letting the bugger rot in the clinker when he remembered House's medical condition…and just couldn't do it. Reluctantly rolling away from the buxom vixen, he opened the phone.

"House? Are you in the slammer?"

"James?" a tiny voice crackled over the somewhat bad connection. If the "LAS VEGAS POLICE DEPARTMENT" caller ID hadn't woken him up, it was that faint sound of his cousin's voice over the phone that did it.

Sitting straight up, Wilson was all business. "Anne, honey?!?! What's going on? My caller ID says 'LAS VEGAS POLICE DEPARTMENT'. Are you in jail?" He couldn't believe his own ears. Those were words he NEVER imagined himself saying.

"Yes James," Anne sighed. She pulled the blanket tighter around her and, in frustration, kicked her matching headdress that she'd thrown on the floor beside her feet. It sailed underneath several desks and over the nearby staircase landing. Suddenly, the sound of objects dropping and people falling down the stairs could be heard, then "WHAT IN THE NAME OF $%# WAS THAT?" followed. Anne gasped and closed her eyes. "SINCE WHEN DID IT RAIN HEADDRESSES?" the authoritative voice screamed, a hint of pain in his screams.

"Now you've done it," House snarked, enjoying every minute of this. Truth be told, he'd have married her, right there, right then. She was bloody brilliant. "You've gone and killed a cop. They've got laws against this sort of thing. You are so busted for this one."

"SHUT UP!" Anne hissed quietly as she continued holding the phone to her mouth. Looking around, they were alone as all the cops were running to the aid of those wounded by the flying headdress. "It's YOUR fault we're in the mess. If you hadn't felt the need to visit an illegal showgirl revue, I wouldn't have had to follow you, dress in this horribly DRAFTY showgirl costume and we wouldn't have been arrested in that raid!"

Wilson caught every word of that conversation and couldn't speak. He just couldn't speak. What do you say when your goody-two-shoes cousin calls you from jail with a story like THIS??

"James? Are you still there?"

Wilson coughed and, grabbing his rumpled boxers from the hotel floor, pulled them on. Moving toward the window, he saw it was still night; the nearby lake hadn't turned to blood; locusts weren't plaguing the greater New Jersey skyline; and fire wasn't raining down from the sky. This was really happening.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, holding his hand against his head. "I just needed to see if Armageddon had begun and I didn't know about it. Let me get this straight: you followed House to a showgirl revue and, in order to spy on him, you dressed as a showgirl. Did you get up on stage?"

Anne sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. It had been a very long night. "With you so far."

'_This just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Maybe I should put him on something not quite as strong. Come to think of it, maybe I should prescribe something for her.'_

Wilson had been hoping that wasn't true. "You really did that?" When she sighed loudly, he knew to continue. "Ok, so you were up there, in a skimpy costume and the place was raided?!?!"

"Yep. And we were all arrested." Looking around, the cops were shooting her dirty looks but still were too far away to hear her conversation. Not wanting to take any chances about the phone being bugged, she stuck to the story she'd invented.

Wilson, being the clever chap that he was, quickly deciphered what was going on and said, "Sure. I'll bail out you and your hubby, that no-good piece of scum. Let me talk to him."

Smirking, Anne handed the phone to the impatient House who promptly began yelling, "Get us out of here! I don't want my wife to see such degradation."

Rolling his eyes, Wilson grinned and himself began yelling, "YOU LOW-LIFE PIECE OF POND SCUM! Are you two-timing my cousin? Thinkin' with the "junior" and not with the head again, aren't you?"

House whined, completely in character. "But not no mo'. Good God, your cousin is HOT in this getup. I swear, I'll NEVER cheat on my wife again."

Wilson narrowed his eyes. He certainly didn't want House ogling his younger cousin but, resolved to continue on, yelled, "Damn straight you aren't! If she weren't my favorite cousin I'd leave you behind bars indefinitely!"

Anne sighed and grabbed the phone. "Just make bail, please?!? I want to get out of here."

*****

The commotion around the staircase had died down, just enough to make bail over the phone. As House and Anne were leaving, a very familiar, booming voice bellowed, "WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO??"

Anne and House turned around. House grinned like the tattling 5-year-old he really was and waved his cane to Anne. "IT'S HERS! SHE DID IT! SHE ALMOST KILLED YOU!"

"Good God man!" Lieutenant Fielding said, coming up behind the angry headdress victim. "She's your WIFE! Why are you selling her out?"

"He's not. He's just a tattletale." Anne sighed and turned to the handsome but older Captain. Upon seeing her wearied body wrapped in a police station's blanket and the older man with the cane beside her, he shook his head.

"You know what? It's ok. Just go home. And I never want to see the two of you here again. You got me?"

"Loud and clear. Come on, dumpling," House said, taking her hand as they followed Lt. Fielding out the door.

When the Lieutenant was far enough ahead to hear, Anne leaned in to House and snarled, "Dumpling?"

"That's right. You're my wittle sequined dumpling."

'_Oh, we're gonna have words,'_ Anne threatened internally. _'This ain't over yet buddy.'_

*****


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

**Las Vegas, NV; TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 3,540**

The car ride back to the theater was completely silent: House was too busy staring at her body, visualizing where he'd first put his hands if he had a chance; the driver just wanted to get them out of his car; and Anne? She was too busy dreaming of full shot glasses of tequila…and what words to use to make House pay.

Once the driver dropped them off and let her in the building, she quickly changed and headed to her motorcycle, the only one of two in the parking lot. House's eyes widened when he saw which bike was hers. He'd know that bike from anywhere: it was her! SHE was tough blond motorcycle chick.

"That was YOU?!?!?!"

She looked at the bike and nodded. Opening her knapsack, she pulled out the blond wig. "It worked, didn't it?" She paused. "Dr. House, we REALLY need to talk."

House became serious for a moment. "Do you have a place to stay?"

She shook her head. "No. I didn't get that far."

He grinned. "You can stay with me."

Anne narrowed her eyes. "You've got a lot of nerve suggesting that, after everything we just went through. You're lucky, for James' sake, I haven't run over you with the bike. And you should be thanking James for asking me to follow you; otherwise, your sorry butt would still be in the clinker."

"Come on; I've got the Penthouse suite at the Mirage."

Her eyebrow lifted at this. "How'd you manage that, in, what I'm guessing was, short notice?" In all honesty, she really didn't have much choice. She was too tired to spend time looking for a hotel room. _'It's a free room, even if it IS Dr. House's.'_

He grinned even wider as she stowed her gear in the bike and turned it on, backing up to meet his orange Honda. "Let's just say that, when we get there, if there's a girl at the front desk with long curly hair and eyes of different colors, say you're my wife, come to meet me in Las Vegas for my vacation. We're going to meet our dying grandson."

Anne rolled her eyes, seriously NOT surprised.

*****

Fortunately for everyone involved, the girl (_'Poor sap,'_ Anne surmised.) wasn't around and they made it to the room without problems. It was very late but Anne felt dirty; she was hungry; and she needed some answers.

"Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll order some room service." House suggested, watching the fatigue on her face. Anne really wasn't in the mood to fight or question his semi-human attitude so she nodded and barricaded herself in the bathroom, oblivious to the war raging on the other side of the bathroom door…

House flopped in the club chair by the telephone, grabbing the room service menu but not really paying attention as sudden flashes of that daydream came back, the same one he had in the shower the morning after being with Canada:

_The rain fell, hot and heavy, stinging his face and setting each nerve ending on fire. _

He groaned, perfectly remembering the images flooding back to haunt him;_ the wet, sheer white cotton sundress that clung perfectly to her even more perfect body: the shape of the ripe breasts just begging for a nip from his succulent lips; her hips, fully curved despite her small stature, sloping into a soft lushness; legs lean; more-green-than-blue eyes glistening from the moisture._

That morning he'd realized he truly respected her. It's quite obvious she didn't respect him.

What could he do? _'Just think of something else. Don't think of her wet…and naked…in the next room…'_ The sudden sound of the shower ill-timed at that moment was his undoing. Limping to the window, he wrestled with the thought of actually dying alone…

And for the first time in his life he was genuinely scared. He didn't want to die alone.

He wanted her by his side.

He couldn't call it love; after all, he'd never slept with her, and sex is love, right?

_**Not hardly,**_ Mr. Conscience, fresh back from what he thought was a permanent vacation in the Caymans, startled him. No matter how he tried, Mr. Conscience just couldn't stay away; he felt responsible somehow. _**Sex is hardly love; sex is hormones clashing relentlessly. Love is the woman who will sit by your bedside and take care of you, no matter how nasty you've been to her or anyone else.**_

_**Well, hello! I've actually missed you. **_He was surprised to actually admit that. He really did miss Mr. Conscience.

_**I knew you would. I'm the only one who's ever been completely honest with you. But I will tell you this: Anne is very good for you. **_

_**I know. How can I make her stay?**_

_**You can't make anyone do anything. But I can't help you with this one. Besides, I have a feeling you'll be consulting another part of your body for this decision. I'm staying out of this one but I do reserve the right to completely judge you when you screw it up.**_

_**Thanks. I greatly appreciate that one. You're too good to me.**_

_**Better than what you deserve. But I'll leave the light on, whenever you decide to visit.**_

She did represent a better sort of person; one he knew existed but never understood. Anne made it easier for him to understand because she was a perfect example of how his world, and that other world, could be meshed together to create, what he thought, was probably the perfect person.

After all, she liked bikes; so did he. She knew how to push people's buttons; so did he. She was daring; so was he. But she was thoughtful and kind, thinking of how to help him when he obviously didn't deserve her help.

'_Maybe I'll ask her to ride with me, that way she can bail me out of trouble if I need it.'_

_**Are you sure that's the reason you want her to join you? Truth is, she's burrowed herself under your skin and can't take it.**_

_**Thank you, oh wise Maharishi. Where would I be without you?**_

_**I'm guessing either in politics or rotting in the gutter. Take your pick.**_

_**You can leave now; I need absolute silence to think. It hurts. **_

_**I can see that.**_

A door lock clicked and House turned to see the bathroom door opening, revealing a robed Anne, complete with towel wrapped around her wet hair. Unfortunately for him, he caught a good look at cleavage.

'_Oh no…are you still there?'_

_**Yep. Wowie, this woman really IS different.**_

_**Yes, she is…and wowie?? Since when did you know a word like "wowie"?**_

_**Shut up. What are you going to do? You can't have a relationship now. You're about to croak.**_

_**Good question…**_


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Anne immediately saw the conflicted vulnerability in House's eyes…and it stirred her in a way that had never happened to her. She realized she loved him – not in the romantic sense but almost in the way you love a puppy that's constantly causing grief but you just can't do anything because he's too busy tugging at your heartstrings. She caught, in that brief moment before House threw up those macho walls, his intense loneliness; his struggled to HIDE that loneliness…and his fear.

The man was scared, probably of dying…and likely of dying alone.

Suddenly realizing her true purpose of her trip (besides what James told her), Anne was supposed to be help House through it. Her heart swelled even more for this man. He was just a scared, crazy little boy who needed someone. He always needed someone, but now more than ever.

But, not wishing to tip her hand, Anne plastered a completely blank face and padded into the living room, towards the saddlebags she'd unceremoniously thrown beside the front door. "So, what did you order?"

House cleared his throat and picked the menu back up. "I was too distracted picturing you naked on top of me to even think of food." He leered at her, causing her to involuntarily step back. "Well, you are naked under that robe; we're halfway there."

Narrowing her eyes, she did remind herself that, despite his attractive loneliness, he was the Scourge of the Medical Community; the boil on the butt of society. Unfortunately, that attractive loneliness that strangely endeared her more and more to him took over those warring thoughts. _'Keep your cool, don't reveal too much,'_ she coached herself. "Dream on, buddy," she snarked back and dragged the bags into the bedroom, shutting the door 3/4s of the way. She needed to talk to him but could hardly do so through the closed door. "So why are you on this trip anyway? I know you're dying in, what, four months?"

"Four AND A HALF."

"Oh excuse me, four AND A HALF."

"That's better." He paused and limped closer to the door, hoping to find some sort of mirror so he could peep like the Tom he was. "Are you just making conversation or is this going to be transcribed and sent to your boss back in Jersey?"

She chuckled. "Actually, my bra is wired for sound. James' has his headphones and is listening to everything we say so watch what you confess."

"I knew it. Behind that boyish charm and dimples lies the heart of a spy." She shook her head but, House still couldn't peep on his prey. The door suddenly burst open and Anne smiled because she'd caught him in the act.

"Why, Dr. House! A bit of the pot calling the kettle black; I do believe you were SPYING on me! Did you see anything? Or should I go back and position myself in such a way you can see me in a mirror? After all, we were busted before you caught the full show."

House flopped in the previous chair, grabbed the telephone and quickly ordered sandwiches. Watching Anne take the opposite chair, he asked, "About that. Why were you there in the first place? And why were you dressed like that if you didn't want any jumping of each other to occur?"

Anne, momentarily confused by his wording but in absolutely no way was she going to tell him about her fantasy as a showgirl, just shrugged. "I needed to keep an eye on you and it seemed the only way to do it. I knew you'd be too distracted by the shiny things with large breasts that you'd never notice me."

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, his hand automatically going to his aching stomach. It hadn't bothered him all day but, then, the day was long and it was bound to happen. It was a mathematical probability. She frowned as she watched his hand movements. "Are you in pain?"

In an effort to save face and hide his mounting pain, he rolled his eyes and snarked, "No. My stomach is lucky and I rub it, just like people rub rabbit's feet." He lifted his hands in a grandiose movement, as if to say, "Have a good rub."

"No thanks." She eyed him and saw pain, emotional and physical. "Have you taken your medicine?" He nodded then watched her lean back in her chair. "Why are you doing this? What interest do you have in me?"

Anne just watched him and they stared each other down, with House losing and looking at his hands, resting on his stomach. "Why? Am I cramping your style? I can leave, if you want."

His head suddenly popped up and she suddenly knew that was the LAST thing he wanted. Anne watched the turmoil in his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as if he were going to say something then deciding not to.

With another sigh, he opened his mouth one more time, paused briefly then began: "Do you, um," he paused again. House really hated this whole "I really do have to be honest here, don't I?" part of the conversation. "Ok. You don't have to leave…I want you here and I want you to ride with me, in case I screw up again. I, um…" Clearing his throat, he decided to take the "just rip off the bandaid quickly" approach. "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to _die_ alone." The acid churned, from his inexperience at being honest, in his damaged stomach and caused his pain to intensify. Seeing the growing pain, she stood up and came to stand beside his chair. Anne knelt beside him, her heart swelling at such a confession, and took a hand cradled on his stomach, holding it in hers. His eyes sought hers as he laced his fingers around hers.

She realized a truly amazing thing just happened, not only in _their_ lives but perhaps in the entire history of the universe itself: Dr. Gregory House was honestly asking for help. How could she deny the dying man this wish? Anne knew she couldn't NOT give him this request.

Nor her heart.

Anne was comfortable in knowing this wasn't love; she'd already had the real, heart-racing, heart-swelling…and heart-breaking…love-thing. But the desire to make House feel needed and even loved in his final days overtook her.

In a way, it would be atonement for her behavior when John died. Mrs. John Donaldson wasn't a supportive wife during his illness; it had taken her several years after his death to come to terms with his illness. And her grief was acute, to that very day.

This feeling of atonement led to the formation of a plan, one she'd never would've considered before this very moment but, now that they were both there, it just felt…right somehow. Perhaps if she had this second chance she could make it right…and John could forgive her. "Yes, House, I will follow you back. And I'll take care of you." She paused, not sure if she could actually do this but figured, _'What have I got to lose?'_ "Dr. House, have you ever been married?"

He shot her a confused look, wondering where this was going. Intrigued, he shook his head. "No." He looked ready to offer more information but clamped his mouth shut.

"Do you, um…" Anne stood up, released his hand, and headed to the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. Admiring the lights of Vegas against the black desert sky, she took a deep breath and asked the glass doors, "Do you want to get married?"

*****


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

"WHAT?!?!??!!!" House shrieked and Anne closed her eyes as she heard him jump out of his seat. Apparently he wasn't in that much pain.

"Are you COMPLETELY out of your mind??!! I'm asking you to ride with me, hopefully a pickle-tickle here and there but nothing serious. I'm not asking you to have my baby!" She turned around to find him glowering down at her as he shook his finger at her and nodded knowingly. "See, I KNEW this would happen; I knew when I got all warm and confessional you'd run with it. If I wanted to marry out of pity I'd have asked Cameron; she would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even have to leave the comfort of my apartment; she'd bring the Justice of the Peace with her, in nothing flat." He walked away and began pacing, all the while holding his stomach. "I thought I had you completely pegged: you seemed so cool, nothing but brains and balls" he paused and looked at her breasts, "well, JUGS of steel. And what are you, really? Just another chick who wants to make the sickie all better. Well, you can forget about it, ok?"

She knew she'd messed up…did she really need it thrown back in her face? Hardly.

Anne stood and marched to stand in front of him. "You are absolutely right: I did, and do, want to make your life better these final months. But does that make me a bad person?" He didn't say anything and she had her answer. Throwing up her hands and narrowing her eyes, she shrieked, "Fine! If that's how you want it, you got it. I'll baby-sit you all the way home; I'll help you; I'll call the ambulance when we're stuck in Butte, Montana, because you deteriorate as you keep popping Vicodin. But that's IT…nothing more. Got it? I will NOT be the sexual distraction from your problems. You don't need sex."

"And YOU know what I need?!?! You've already killed one husband; I wouldn't want to be the next."

Anne's eyes widened and, a force she'd never expected to have, slapped House across the face. "Don't you EVER say anything like that again. Ever." She turned to run away but House stopped her. He was instantly regretful but wasn't about to apologize. He would simply show her. Looking into her blazing blue-green eyes, he couldn't stop himself: he leaned forward and fully took her mouth.

She struggled, pushing against his forearms…but House was skilled at kissing. She gave up very quickly, moving closer to him.

*****

'_No, she will NOT win…there's no way in hell I'd marry her…'_ House kept chanting as his tongue moved over hers, her hands moving to his hair.

Then her fingers traced his neck…and Mr. Conscience paid another visit.

_**I'm very disappointed in you. What was that you just said to her?**_

_**Go away…I'm busy.**_

_**Stop this, right now. You know the minute you have sex with a woman you lose all respect for her. You can't do this.**_

_**Yes, I can. And I will.**_

_**But she will leave you…they always do.**_

This made him stop: it was the one thing he wasn't willing to risk, now that he recognized the true possibility of Anne being the friend he so needed…and desired. Sighing, he pulled away from her, only to almost go back to her when he saw her red, swollen lips; her rumpled bedclothes; her messy hair…and her lustful eyes. Not quite believing what he was doing, he stepped further away.

"I can't do this."

It was Anne's turn to shriek, "WHAT?!?!?!" He saw her vulnerability and distress. "What's going on?"

"I can't do this," he repeated, his body still moaning at her rumpled state. He wanted to touch her so badly his fingers ached. But he had to get out of there…quickly.

Grabbing his jacket and knapsack, he started toward the front door then stopped. "I'm going for a ride. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." With that, forgetting the food on its way and the woman whimpering behind him, House walked out the door.

*****

_**Great, thanks man, **_House was officially pissed off at Mr. Conscience.

_**You did the right thing. You need her friendship and her compassion more than you need her body…**_House began to object but he silenced him. _**Yes, you do. You've proven you're a stud and can get whichever woman you want. Now, the hard part is keeping them. You need her. How about I make a deal with you?**_

_**Oh brother…this should be interesting. What is it?**_

_**How about you marry her…in name only.**_

_**That's got to be the most outrageous thing I've ever heard.**_

_**Just hear me out. Let her be your companion, your nurse…your friend. If, by the time you two arrive in New Jersey, you haven't ripped each other to shreds, you can sleep with her. By that time, you'll know if you can be together.**_

And, as strange as it might seem, Dr. Gregory House believed him. This respect thing, while completely new, might actually be a good thing.

_**Ok, ok. But how am I going to explain this to her?**_

*****


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Anne awoke later that morning, after only receiving a few hours of sleep, to find the bedroom completely empty…except for a huge pair of brown teddy bear eyes staring at her. Smiling slightly, she sat up to find Gregorio pondering her. "Gregorio? Where did you come from?" she asked, taking a moment to stroke his furry nose. Reality suddenly hit: House must've left the bear on her bed while she was asleep, which meant he did come back last night…

After he left, Anne had begun crying. She knew she was confusing him: one minute she proposed; the next she was kissing him, AFTER she told him she wouldn't sleep with him.

In reality, she was just as confused as he was. See, she'd just managed to convince herself that what she felt for him was the whole mischievous puppy-dog thing, that it wasn't adult…or even passionate. She'd even convinced herself it wasn't what she wanted…

Until he kissed her. Again. It re-sparked a feeling, the same feeling she encountered when they first kissed in the police station, she didn't understand, one she'd tried so hard to bury because it unnerved her to no end and she certainly didn't want to feel it and she DEFINITELY didn't want to feel it with House.

It was passion.

But how could a feeling so common and so powerful to the rest of the world be so foreign to someone as beautiful and talented as Dr. Anne Donaldson?

Dr. John Donaldson had been her first…and only. They'd met in medical school. She'd never dated in high school or her undergrad years, mostly because she was too ambitious. So distracted by the constantly plaguing NEED to be perfect, she didn't have a childhood. It was a shameful expectation drilled into her by her father, a prominent businessman who gave no whit for his family and only cared about appearances.

Her life with John was comfortable, safe…predictable. John was precise and so sure of himself but regimented in a routine that made the Army look chaotic. And Anne was happy because she was used to this. The comfortable love, which was more of a mature respect for each other, was enough for her. The little spontaneity they'd allowed themselves was motorcycles. They worked well together, building and riding the speedsters. But, along with everything else, even this unpredictability was planned and carefully woven into the walls of their life together.

And then he got sick, thereby collapsing the structure of her carefully-built world around her and cutting her off from how her life could be. It took five years, after John's death, to come to the realization that she was 40 years old; she needed to LIVE.

Which was why she agreed to this silly trip in the first place, why she agreed to act out her showgirl fantasy. And it felt good; really, really good.

And now here they were, stuck in this conundrum of a problem. _'Oh WHY did I allow myself to even think such a thing, much less say it? He must think I'm crazy.'_

The simple fact was that wanted to experience House, to be with him, but she needed the structure she was used to. She couldn't simply be his nurse: she wanted to be more than that to him. She couldn't be his live-in: it wasn't structured ENOUGH. Hence the suggestion of marriage. It wasn't flighty and it wasn't impersonal; it had balance, it had form.

And it was completely opposite of the man in the next room.

She couldn't help it: as hard as she tried, her heart continually filled with House. And the kiss last night infused some sort of crazy, radical, unexplainable feeling for him, completely different from anything she'd ever felt before.

Or was this just justification on her part, since she suggested marriage BEFORE the kiss?

"It doesn't matter now, does it Gregorio?" She muttered to the bear, hugging him close to her. "What's done is done. Now the ball's in his court." Still clutching the bear, Anne padded into the living room of the Penthouse, giving little regard for how she looked. And what she saw made her heart swell…and pound…at the same time:

House was lying on the pull-out mattress, wrapped up in white sheets, hugging a pillow to him. His hair was rumpled; his t-shirt was askew...but his face was at complete and total peace. Her breath caught at the beauty of his face in the mid-morning sunlight: how the crags of wrinkles cast shadows; how his long eyelashes fluttered in time with his steady breathing; how his gray hair spilt across his forehead; and how the drool shined beside his pillow. She had a sudden and almost uncontrollable urge to sit beside him and lightly touch the plains of his face, to move that hair from his forehead, to place a light kiss right over that white patch of stubble just to the right of his lips. Lately she'd become fascinated by that patch, along with other parts of his body. This confused the poor woman even more since she never felt that way toward John. She didn't know what was coming over her.

Instead of dwelling on the matter, Anne played the teddy bear game herself: lightly walking to the desk, she pulled out a piece of "MIRAGE" letterhead and quickly scribbled a note:

**We need to talk. Let's have breakfast.**

Positioning Gregorio where House could see him when he first awoke, Anne crept out of the room, unaware of the pale blue eyes following her form to the bedroom.

*****

Sitting up, his stomach still aching, which kept him up most of the night, along with the current matter of this insane woman he suddenly really, REALLY liked.

Looking at the bear, he could've sworn, for the SECOND time since their meeting, that that bear's eyebrows lifted. Unlike the first time, an event that led to his ill-fated meeting with the Elmer Fudd parrot ('BE VEWY, VEWY QUIET: I'M HUNTING WABBITS'), this time Gregorio's eyelift meant, "What a pickle you two are in: what are you going to do now?"

House sighed. "I don't have a clue. Do you have any ideas?"

_**Are you really going to marry her?**_

_**There you are. Why didn't you show up sooner and save me the added embarrassment of talking to this teddy bear?**_

_**I just got up. I had a hot date with Ms. Conscience next door. She's SMOKIN'! Did you know she's a Libra that lives in Fort Lauderdale? Her person is Sandra and she's got legs up to HERE!**_

_**Shut…really? Is she available?**_

_**Enough! What about that beauty in the bathroom? What are you going to do?**_

_**Don't ask me! You've got all the answers. I need help.**_

_**Of course you do. Marry her. I know better than even yourself that you've always wanted to get married. The reason you didn't marry Stacy was because you're just a 'fraidy cat…that and you couldn't let the leg thing go. If you'd have just let her whack the leg you might still be with her.**_

_**Shut it. Why can't we just live in blissful carnal heaven?**_

_**That's not what she wants. She's needs structure and she's trying to create that for the both of you. Just go to breakfast and hear her out. You might just learn something.**_

Grumbling, he heaved himself off the bed and, painfully limping to the closed bathroom door, he knocked quietly.

"Yes?" Anne answered apprehensively.

"Do you know of any good restaurants on the Strip?"

*****

Both showered, dressed and were ready relatively quickly. And in complete silence. Anne grabbed her wallet and met House at the front door who waited patiently for her. She solemnly, and awkwardly, looked up at him. "How about the Roasted Bean? I need coffee. Now."

Sweeping his hand to the front door, as if to say, "You got it. After you." she nodded and walked out the door. Ten minutes later, they were seated in the upscale coffee bar, each with a French pastry and a mocha latte. Nervously stirring her latte, she didn't want to be the first to start the conversation. But what House said was completely NOT what she expected and almost made her knock her coffee over:

"I'll marry you."

Silence.

He looked up and smirked when he saw the blue-green saucers (formerly eyes) staring down at her spoon, which suddenly took on a faster stirring speed. "Anne, you can look at me. What do you have to say?"

It was the "Anne" from his lips that finally brought her head up to look at him. Noticing the waiter coming their way, she turned and grabbed his hand. "Excuse me. I'm gonna need about three more of these chocolate éclairs." His eyebrow lifted but, seeing her frightened seriousness nodded and scooted away.

Finally looking at House, Anne cleared her throat then took a scalding swig of latte. Bad move…it resulted in her spraying House with the chocolate drink.

"Thanks." He grabbed his napkin and wiped his face. "Is that good or bad?"

"WATER!" She gasped and grabbed his water, chugging to relieve the four-alarm fire in her throat. Once she came up for breath, she found him chuckling at her. "What?"

"You. Very interesting behavior: you propose; I accept; you freak."

She coughed and grabbed her napkin. "I wasn't actually sure you'd accept."

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it! I don't say things I don't mean." Anne's own eyes narrowed. "Why'd you accept?"

House's demeanor changed and he became absolutely serious. "Might as well do everything I've never done now, before I'm dead and it's too late. I've never been married. Anne," he leaned over his coffee and looked seriously into her eyes, looking for a reaction to what he was about to say. "I can read you like a book. You want to marry me because I've given you something you've never had: excitement, danger…" he leaned over and watched her lips, breathing the next word against them, "…passion."

Anne was smart but House was smarter. He caught the quick realization in her eyes which disappeared just as quickly. He smirked again. "Don't attempt to deny it; it's written all over your face. I'm the "bad boy" you've never had and you want that."

Finally collecting her wits, she leaned forward, leaving only a few centimeters between them. "I want to marry you because you're so pathetically lonely I morally can't leave you to die alone and dismal."

"I have one stipulation."

She smirked and crossed her arms across her breasts, sitting back in her chair. "I knew it. Ok, what is it: sex toys? Whips? Chains? Strategically-placed thermometers?"

While his head did tilt at the possibilities, he remained absolutely serious. "No sex."

Her heart momentarily ached at the thought of not seeing THAT body in all its glory…but she knew he was driving at something. And she was overwhelmed with curiosity. "Are you serious? Did you come up with that one on your own?"

"I had some help."

"Did you call that sex-help lady with the television show that only airs at midnight? Did she say this was the penance for BOTH our sins?"

From the way his face didn't even crack a smile told Anne he was serious. "Look, here's the deal: we get married. If, by the time we get back to Jersey, we haven't murdered each other, we'll jump each other's bones. Got it?"

And how could she refuse such an acceptance? Holding her hand out, she said, "Deal." He'd accepted; it certainly wasn't her place to question him. "What about sex with other people? Is this an open marriage?" His jaw clenched and she realized that was a no. "No? Really? I'd have thought that, if you weren't getting the cream at home, you'd go find it someplace else." A twinge of hurt darkened his baby blues momentarily and hers widened. He was HURT she'd think that about him!

The waiter returned with her éclairs. "Can we get all these to go? We just decided to get married." And this sounded even more outrageous than the éclair request; he'd seen them talking and knew something was brewing. He just never imagined it would be THAT.

"Aye aye aye," he muttered and took back the pastries. "Now I've seen it all."

*****

Two hours later Mr. and Mrs. Gregory House arrived back at the Penthouse suite. Thankfully foregoing the Elvis wedding, the ceremony was nice but uneventful. Until…

"And by the powers vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you husband and wife." The officiator looked at House. "You may kiss the bride."

Now House looked uncomfortable so, smirking, Anne leaned in and sing-songed, "Oh hubby dear, I'm waiting."

He growled, taking Anne by surprise, as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss unlike any she'd ever experienced. The big haired, cosmetic-covered "organist" (video iPod and stereo system), flicking away what looked to be genuine tears, punched in the music typically found at the end of wedding ceremonies and they broke apart. Both felt dizzy…and suddenly very anxious to leave Las Vegas.

House coughed, paid and they were gone…

*****


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

**Las Vegas, NV to Salt Lake City, UT: 6 hours; 421 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 3,961 miles**

Once in the room, House looked at his watch. 3:00. His lips still twitching from that kiss, he REALLY wanted to get back to Jersey, more than he ever thought possible. Clearing his throat, he looked at Anne. "What do you say we start back tonight? I, um…" he had to quickly think of a Housian excuse. Suddenly snapping his fingers, "…I forgot! I promised Jimmy I'd help him with…something…"

Anne wasn't an idiot…and she wanted to leave too. She shrugged. "Sure. We can make Salt Lake City by tonight." She paused. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, here we go," he muttered, moving toward the desk table to begin packing. "We've been married 20 minutes and already you're starting in on me. Give me a break."

"I am your nurse, after all," she muttered back and moved to the bedroom.

"Yeah, don't remind me," He muttered back, low enough so she wouldn't hear. Truth be told, House no longer felt pain. He was still too distracted. _'Perhaps we should fly back…'_ He was definitely sure he didn't want her as his nurse…unless she was a NAUGHTY nurse. "Oh yeah," he said aloud. Suddenly the distance between them reared its ugly head. _'Oh no,'_ he moaned to himself. _'What have I done?'_

_**You cheeseball, you respected her wishes, that's what you did.**_

_**Don't you ever knock?**_

_**Don't you ever think? She told you she didn't want to be your sexual distraction. Wait a minute: did you really NOT process that part when you agreed to something like this? Did you just use your INSTINCTS and not logic?**_

_**Leave me alone. I'm new at this.**_

_**Aye, aye, aye. Is the world still revolving?**_

*****

Ten minutes later, they were packed and ready to go. Heading to the lobby, House suddenly stopped. "Wouldn't you know it?" he quietly asked Anne, who was walking beside him. "It's that girl. She can't see you here. Maybe if you left really…"

"Dr. House! Yoo-hoo!" The girl smiled and waved him over to the desk, despite the crowd already waiting in line. Too late; they'd been spied.

"WHAT?!?!" A well-dressed man yelled, incredulous that someone should cut in front of HIM. "That's cutting. You can't do that!"

"How old are you, twelve?" Anne spoke up, shooting him a dirty look and making House puff with pride. "He's a cripple. Zip it or we'll sue you for being a big fat meanie."

" 'We'll sue him for being a big fat MEANIE'?" House quietly asked Anne as they continued to the desk. "Now who's twelve? Damn. Why didn't I think of that one?"

"Dr. House! Remember me?" The girl grinned.

House turned on the hideously-fake charm. "Of course I do! You're the fine young lady who helped me get a room here! Look, Madge," he smirked at his wife who shot him a glare. _'Madge??!! Do I really look like a Madge?'_ "It's that lovely young woman who found a way for me to get pictures of Jimmy's white tigers. Bless you dearie." Now "Madge" was getting ill from this shameless display but, nevertheless, became a party to his lie. After all, if she can lie to the police, while wearing nothing but strips of sequins, she can lie to some unsuspecting girl.

"Oh, Greg dear, is this the angel who made our Jimmy's dreams come true?!?!"

That girl was absolute putty in that couple's hands as she quickly brought up the bill. House signed and they left, before the girl could even question who "Madge" was.

"We are SOO going to hell for that one," Anne muttered which only made House's smirk intensify.

*****

The pair of rough-riders arrived in Salt Lake City by 10:00 p.m., promptly pulling up to the Hilton Salt Lake City Center. Locking the bikes together, House promptly handed Gregorio to Anne.

She looked at it then back at House. "Why must I carry him?"

"You're the wife: you carry all the toys. Besides," He tilted his head toward the door, as if to say, "Hurry up." "I can't very well walk inside carrying a teddy bear. How would THAT make me look?"

"I had no idea you were so high maintenance," Anne snarked back, grabbing the bear and her saddlebags then marched inside, leaving House to eat her dust…and stare at her hindquarters. Finding a short line, the mismatched but rather handsome pair stood in line. When it was their turn, they got to the counter and the first words out of Anne's mouth were, "You got double beds?"

The front desk clerk, noting their matching wedding bands, raised his eyebrows. "Sure…"

House quickly noted the reaction. "She's a roller. How do you think I hurt my leg?" The man's eyebrows jumped even higher and Anne narrowed her eyes. "Honey, you might as well admit it: we get into bed; have our nightly carnal consummation then you move to your single bed. It's a lot like 'I Love Lucy', except we can actually say "sex" and "orgasm". No wonder that show was in black and white…what a dreary marriage."

"What in God's name are you doing?" Anne whispered, her face as red as her hair.

"Get used to it; it's what your husband does." He whispered back, a twinkle in his eye.

And they'd never seen a front desk clerk work that quickly to get them checked in.

*****


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

**Las Vegas, NV to Salt Lake City, UT: 6 hours; 421 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 3,961 miles**

Twenty minutes later, they were settling down when Anne heard House moaning. Looking up from her saddlebags, she caught the pained look in his eyes as he rubbed his stomach. Dropping what she was doing, she came over to the double bed closest to the main window and stood beside it. "House? Are you ok?"

He nodded and sat up straight, attempting to eradicate any trace of pain from his demeanor.

"The more you lie to me, the worse we'll get along and the more likely I'll be to demand an annulment. Is this what you want?"

House fidgeted on the bed in the guise of getting comfortable when, in actuality, it was a nervous fidget. An annulment was NOT what he wanted (probably because it meant no nookie); truth be told, an annulment was not what she wanted either. "I'm fine."

Anne lifted her eyebrow, clearly not believing him. "When was the last time you were examined by a professional?"

"Doctor or prostitute?"

'_Why can't he just give me a straight answer?'_ "Doctor."

"Not since before I left…why?"

"Because I need to examine you. You're long overdue."

At this he shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not."

"And why not? I'm a doctor too you know."

"Because you can't afford to see me naked."

"HUH?!" Anne shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's a STOMACH exam. You don't have to be naked. And what do you mean I can't afford to see you naked? Are you too expensive or something?"

"Well," he began, his mouth smirking, "you see me naked and you have no choice but to jump my bones. Our deal will be broken."

"Shut up and take off your shirt." She turned to her bags and pulled out her stethoscope and medical kit. Sighing quietly and closing her eyes, she had to get her wits about her before she saw him. She knew he'd be incredible, if that tall lankiness was any indication. Quickly turning around, she found House naked from the waist up. He was even better than she'd imagined.

'_I'm so screwed.'_

Looking up, House saw everything in her eyes and grinned knowingly. "See what I mean?"

_**I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES, WHERE YOU FROM? YOU SEXY THING, YOU SEXY THING YOU…**_

"What is that?" Anne straightened, her eyes roaming at the sudden distraction, thankful to be momentarily taken away from his chest.

_**I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES, SINCE YOU CAME ALONG, YOU SEXY THING…**_

"Oh crap," he muttered as Anne went looking for the source of the Hot Chocolate/You Sexy Thing serenade. "I forgot to change that."

_**WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, BABY? HOW DID YOU KNOW I NEEDED YOU?**_

Anne found his phone but it was too late to answer. The caller ID said: JAMES WILSON

"It's James. He'll call back; don't tell him we're married."

House tilted his head. "Why not? I'd have thought you'd have shouted it from the rooftops."

"You may think you know James but he WILL murder you when he finds out we're married. And if he finds out over the phone? Not only will he murder you but your body will never be discovered; you'll just be dumped in the Atlantic, sporting cement galoshes. Trust me." House rolled his eyes, not believing for one moment Jimmy would do that. "Ok," Anne began again. "I'll make you a deal: you don't tell him we're married and I won't tell him about your ring tone."

_That seemed fair._

"That seems fair. Deal."

_**I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES, WHERE YOU FROM? YOU SEXY THING, YOU SEXY THING YOU…**_

She handed him the phone.

"Jimmy-boy! How's man's best friend?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Are you out of jail?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm out of jail…you made bail, after all."

"House, you of all people know that you can't be trusted. And what have you done with Anne? Do you have her tied to the back of your motorcycle? Is she being used as your sex slave?"

'_I wish.'_ "My, Boy Genius, what stupid questions you have. Are you sure you aren't a wolf in Grandmother's clothing?"

"Huh?"

Anne could tell the conversation was going very badly so she snatched the phone away from House and moved to the other bed, leaving the big baby whining about "How Mommy stole my phone". "James?"

"ANNE?!?! He DOES have you hostage, doesn't he?" Wilson's tone was vicious…and his words suddenly fell out of his mouth in a fury. "Just tell me where you are; or, better yet, I can have the call traced. I'll have the FBI, CIA, NSA, NAACP, MENSA, PETA," he was starting to get breathless right about here, "PBS, RAF, any other group with that uses letters for names, out there so fast House won't know WHAT hit him. I'll make sure he…"

"Oh for Pete's sake, James!" Anne interrupted him. "House has not held me hostage!"

"Then why are you on his phone?"

"Ummm…" Anne looked at House who just raised his eyebrow. From what she could see, he knew where the conversation was leading. _'Ok, so how am I supposed to answer this?' _"Ok, Jimmy, here's the scoop: I just found out that House is my long-lost pen-pal and we're catching up on lost time."

Wilson gasped. "Wait a minute: that's a Housism. You don't use Housisms…you're too good of a person. Either: you are his hostage and he's making you read this from a script scribbled on a hotel napkin; you're boinking him at this very moment; or there's something you're hiding from me. In any case, I WILL call one of those official-sounding-letter-titled groups and House'll be in the slammer…again…so quickly he won't know what hit him."

Anne smiled. She really did love her cousin, so very much. "Why are you calling?"

"Why are you answering?"

She knew he wasn't going to give it up so she sighed and looked at House who was just about to jump off the bed to find out what was happening. He absolutely hated being left out of any conversation, particularly one concerning him. She sighed. "Jim, House finally accepted the fact that I was going to follow him everywhere he went so we decided to ride together. Jim…" Anne's eyes never left House's. "Jim," she repeated, "he's getting worse. He's in constant pain. Can you up his medication?"

"HEY!!!" Now House was mad. She had no right to say that to his doctor. Who does she think she is, anyway?? "You have no right to tell him that!?! Who do you think you are anyway???"

Carefully covering the phone so Jimmy couldn't hear the next part, Anne leaned over to hiss, "I'm your nurse and your WIFE, in case you've forgotten. Jimmy's your doctor; he has to know."

"No he doesn't. I can take care of myself."

Anne was furious with her husband. "And you've done a bang-up job so far. Now shut up and let us grown-ups handle this." She returned to the phone. "Jim, I'm sorry about that. The child was throwing a temper tantrum."

"Well," Wilson ignored this; he was too busy thinking. "I can up his dosage. I didn't have him on a very strong prescription because he was relatively healthy, well, as healthy as he could be, all things considered. Have you examined him?"

"I was just about to when you called. He keeps going on and on about his magnificent physique and how I can't handle it."

"DAMN STRAIGHT!" he yelled.

"Good luck. Call me when you're done and tell me what you think. I'll call in a prescription tomorrow. It's 1 a.m. here…where are you at?"

"Salt Lake City."

"Already? Wow…either he's really sick or he wanted to get out of Vegas fast."

'_You have no idea.'_

"I'll call you in about 30 minutes. Bye." CLICK. She turned back to House. _'Oh goodie…well, here we go…'_

*****


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cooperate?" Anne asked, handing him the closed phone and putting her stethoscope to her ear.

"And what if I misbehave?"

"Have you ever seen _Misery_?" House nodded. "Make me mad enough and my bedside manner will make Kathy Bates look like Florence Nightingale." Not for one moment did he believe her so he just rolled his eyes.

Anne moved to his bed and sat on the edge, holding the stethoscope to his chest. Succeeding in ignoring his intense gaze, she moved the stethoscope around his chest, watching only the end of it, determined to not look where she really WANTED to look. "Sit up," she quietly commanded, still intent on her work. He leaned forward and she stood up to lean behind him. Just as she was listening to his lungs, he snaked a hand between her legs and cradled her thigh, lightly running fingertips along the inside of her cotton pajama bottoms. She stopped the stethoscope's movements and quietly sighed, momentarily enjoying his closeness. She hadn't been touched by a man since her husband died seven years before. Yes, she mourned him for five years and began living life for the last two but she hadn't dated in those years. She hadn't been able to bring herself back to that intimacy but oh, how she missed being touched, held, thought of as attractive. His touching was quickly sending her back to that place again; the long-buried sexual desire was making its way to the surface. _'This is going to be a LONG trip.'_

"Dr. House…" she whimpered, trying to restrain herself from revealing too much. She wasn't quite ready yet and she thought he just wouldn't understand. He didn't seem like that sort of a man.

"We're married. Can't you call me Greg?" He asked with no intention of removing his hand.

She found enough strength to step away and went to her medical kit. "Your lungs and heart are fine." She pulled out a thermometer and came back to the bed. "I need to check your tonsils and take your temperature."

He stubbornly shook his head. "No you don't. I don't want my temperature taken."

She rolled her eyes. "We have to know if there's an infection and, um…" she paused, not how to phrase the next thought, "…and if the cancer has spread as high as your tonsils. If so…you're sicker than we first thought."

He ignored her last words and the implications of which. "Oh, I've got a fever all right: just not the kind you're looking for." Anne looked into his eyes and knew what he meant.

"Why's it always sex with you?"

"Cut me some slack; I'm dying here."

"And cut me some slack; I'm here to make sure your last days aren't ravished in fever…" his eyebrows lifted at her words. "…not SEXUAL fever." She held up the thermometer again and, once again, he stubbornly shook his head. "Fine. Roll over…I'll just take it rectally."

His eyes widened at this then, sighing loudly and melodramatically, he shrugged. "Oh all right." She grinned as she pulled out some rubbing alcohol, went to the bathroom, sterilized the mercury thermometer and returned.

"Now, if you're a good boy we'll order some ice cream from room service. How does that sound?" She stood over him and waved the thermometer until it went to zero.

"Chocolate with chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles??" He sarcastically retorted and clapped his hands.

"Perhaps. Now, open up…" She bent over and stuck the instrument under his tongue.

"I thought that was MY line…" his voice was muffled around the thermometer.

"Wow, Greg, you're on a roll," Anne retorted back and she warmed when she saw his eyes light up at her use of his first name. "One more perverted comment and you could open your own sex chat line."

"What makes you think I don't already have one?" he muffled again.

"Shut up. We're almost done." Anne leaned over and felt his tonsil glands underneath his jaw. "Not swollen. That's good." She waited a few more minutes and took out the thermometer. "Look…" she held the thermometer for him to read. "…you're done. Time for Thanksgiving turkey."

"Hardy har har."

She smiled and left to re-sterilize the instrument. Putting it away, she knew it was time for the serious examination: she had to examine his stomach. "Ok, Mr. Sickie, it's time for the hard part. Lay back on the bed, no pillow. I need you completely flat." She saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew there was a racy retort somewhere in there. "So help me, Greg, you make one more sex comment I'll do something sick and twisted to Gregorio." She grabbed the bear and her scissors.

His eyes widened; he truly loved that bear (well, as much as a misanthropic pain-in-the-butt could love a stuffed animal). "You wouldn't…"

"You're right, I wouldn't. But can we, for once, have a serious discussion here? This is your health. Ok, maybe you don't care about your health; maybe you just want to die. But, no matter what the conditions of this marriage really are, you are still my husband and I don't want you to suffer."

He sighed and, nodding, lay back down. She sat on the bed again, next to his naked stomach. Suddenly, she wasn't sure if he could do this; it meant touching his warm, smooth abdomen, just inches from…HIM.

Sighing almost in frustration she looked down and followed the planes of his abdomen with her hands. Her core, her brain and her heart started overheating, and shivering, at the same time. Touching him was so different than touching any other man: he was dangerous; mean…everything she never went for. He was so different from John.

Judging from the short breaths coming from the patient, Anne could tell he was enjoying it himself. That was, until she began poking, prodding, looking for "soft spots": areas he was in pain. Yelping at a couple areas, she frowned. "Where does it hurt?"

He pointed down…and not at his stomach. She knew how affected he was; it wasn't exactly a secret. Rolling her eyes, she continued prodding, finding that he stomach was a bit bloated. "Have you been having heartburn, trouble swallowing or other noticeable swelling?" He looked hesitant. "Come on, just tell me. The longer you stall, the longer the exam…" his eyes perked up with this, "…and the more pain I will inflict." His eyes fell with this and, with a sigh, he nodded. "I've been having heartburn and some bloody stools but it hasn't intensified."

She nodded. Suddenly her hands took on minds of their own as they roamed his abdomen, her fingertips dipping underneath the band of his low-slung jeans. His breath caught as they came closer to home base; she gasped as she brushed the edge of his forest. Feeling a bit dizzy, she looked up in his face and saw his head rolled back, his mouth open. He was clearly enjoying this.

Not knowing what came over her (but that kiss at the altar was foremost in her mind), she leaned over and kissed his belly button, flicking her tongue inside the indentation. He moaned and she sat up, watching his eyes slowly opening. Sitting up, he leaned forward and kissed her, enjoying this forbidden treasure. He knew he wouldn't CONSCIOUSLY make a move for more but still…

After a few heated moments of roaming hands, tongues tasting, teeth clashing and desperate sighs, Anne pulled away. Standing up, she leaned across House, took his phone and walked away from the bed. In a magnificent show of restraint, she breathed, "Get ready for bed; I'm calling James back." Grabbing a room key and without looking back, she left the room, leaving House groaning and lying back in the bed, wondering if he could really do this.

"God help me," he said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, "I think I love her. This is going to be the longest trip…"

*****


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

**Salt Lake City, UT to Denver, CO: 7 ½ hours, 533 Miles;**

**Denver, CO to Junction City, KS: 7 hours; 477 miles;**

**Junction City, KS to Kansas City, MO: 2 hours; 128 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 5,101 miles**

It had been a rough night; first the second phone call with James then trying to sleep while HE slept in the next bed…

*****

"James? It's Anne," she sounded hesitant. "He's not as bad as I thought but he is getting worse. He's having heartburn; he says his stools are still bloody; and there is abdominal swelling. But…he's just as big of a perverted jerk as ever."

James chuckled. "Well, that's comforting to know. Ok. Call me tomorrow morning with the name and phone number of a pharmacy there and I'll call them. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow, as soon as we pick up the prescription."

Wilson was silent for a few moments then sighed. "Anne, what's really going on? Just a few days ago he seemed eager to be away from here for as long as possible. Now it's like he's racing home." He paused again. "And, really, why are you helping him? I thought you were going to be as covert as possible."

There was no way she was telling him they were married. "I tried, James, but I keep bailing him out of trouble. It just wasn't working. Besides, I think he's really lonely and needs someone with him. I've become his friend, something he really needs right now. Will it put your mind at ease if I informed you that we haven't slept together?"

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. "Anne, I know how he is in relationships. The only steady, constant romantic relationship he's had lasted five years but ended, BADLY, about 8 years ago. He's never been married and he'll never GET married, as far as I'm concerned." Anne caught her choke just before it spilled out. "I just wouldn't want you to get hurt, that's all."

Anne smiled. "I know James. You've always been there for me, especially when John died. I wouldn't be where I am today without you." _'Literally,'_ she thought. "James, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I'll call you, ok?"

"Ok. Bye."

Anne closed the phone and, stopping outside the door, gathered her wits about her. "How am I going to sleep in the same room as him?" She suddenly remembered "It Happened One Night". "I'm thinkin' I'm gonna need a blanket and my bungee cords." With a firm resolve to save herself from House, she unlocked the door…

Only to find House sitting on top of the standard-issue hotel covers, seemingly waiting for her. Wearing only his boxers. She stopped when she saw him. "Don't you have any pajamas?" She growled in an attempt to calm herself.

House looked down at himself then back at Anne, smirking. "I only use those when I have unexpected company. I didn't bring any with me because I usually sleep in my glorious nakedness."

"Ok, that's it…" Anne went to her bags and pulled out the bungee cords that usually held her extra belongings to her bike. Turning back around, House eyed them.

"Oh…are you going to use those on ME??!!" he sounded excited.

"No…the walls of Jericho are going up."

"HUH?!?" House was lost. Being the industrious woman she was, Anne hooked the bungee cords around the wall light fixtures then, stripping off the top hotel covers, she grabbed the sheet underneath and, smiling at House, threw it over the side. House finally caught on to what she was doing. "Now, wait a minute…" he wasn't happy. Not one bit. "…this isn't the 1930s and you're my wife. It's hard enough that you're sleeping in the next bed. But this?"

Anne peeked around the side. "I could repeat to you…AGAIN…the reasoning behind this but I won't. You know why. Besides, I need my privacy when I sleep." She looked at him and melodramatically shivered. "And I really don't want to know what you do over there. Good night." She returned to her side of the sheet. Suddenly remembering she actually had to finish getting ready for bed, she sighed. She hadn't made the "this is it; goodnight" exit she'd planned.

Peeking around the sheet she found him still staring at it, disbelief written all over his face. When he saw her auburn hair, he grinned. "I knew you couldn't stay away. You've seen the light! Did you miss me?"

"Nope. Bathroom." She marched over to her bag and carried it into the bathroom. Returning several minutes later, he hadn't changed positions on the bed; just where his attention was directed to. Now on her side of the "wall", she positioned it so he couldn't see her sleep.

"Oh man…" he whined, which only intensified when she turned off the light. "Is this how it's going to be until we get to Princeton?"

Her voice was a bit muffled from behind the sheet. "Yep. Get used to it."

He moaned louder but didn't do anything. He dimmed the light closest to him and lay back, listening for her steady breathing. It certainly took awhile…_**'I wondering if she's thinking about me,'**_he thought…then mentally slapped himself. _**'Good grief! You're pathetic Greg. This isn't you…'**_

When he could tell finally determine that she was asleep, he picked up his cane and carefully moved the sheet so he could see her. With only the dim light from his side, he could see she was faced toward him and his breath caught at her peacefulness; the beauty of the woman took his breath away. Her hair spilt across the pillow and her forehead; her hand lying beside her face. Taking a few minutes to study her, he stood up, walked across the room, grabbed Gregorio (he really wasn't worried she'd do anything to his furry friend) and placed him on the pillow behind her, almost as a substitute for himself.

Something so sacred and profound came over him as he watched her; so much so he leaned over, gently moved her hair from her forehead and lightly kissed her, careful not to wake her with his whiskers. Hobbling back to his bed, he climbed in and turned to her, watching her across the end table that separated the two beds. Just watching her eased his scared heart (he didn't want to die) and, for the first time in two months, he felt peace before falling asleep.

*****

The next morning she awoke to find the "wall" had opened a bit, just enough to see the back of Greg's snoring head; Gregorio in her arms; and the mid-morning sun filtering through the windows. She smiled as a vision of House getting up, opening the "wall" and giving her Gregorio to sleep with filled her mind. Inadvertently, her heart swelled with, well…she thought it was love. _'Do I love him? I think so…'_ Ignoring the tugging in her heart, she got up, got showered and dressed, then left the hotel room with the phone book and House's cell phone. Giving James the phone number to Rite-Aid, she returned to find the shower running.

*****


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

**Salt Lake City, UT to Denver, CO: 7 ½ hours, 533 Miles;**

**Denver, CO to Junction City, KS: 7 hours; 477 miles;**

**Junction City, KS to Kansas City, MO: 2 hours; 128 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 5,101 miles**

Forty-five minutes later, they were waiting in line at the Rite-Aid when House opened his phone and dialed. When the other person picked up, House became a Valley-Girl. He was quite good, too. "Foreman! You SOOO haven't missed me! I haven't heard from you in, like, FOREVER!"

Foreman, in the middle of an uncomplicated DDX with Cameron and Chase, just rolled his eyes. Hitting the speakerphone (but not telling House), he chuckled. "Hello House! Judging from the caller ID it sounds like you're out of jail. But, then, why should I be surprised?"

House narrowed his eyes and looked at Anne who was looking straight ahead. Judging from her tilted head, she was listening to every word he said. "Jimmy's got a big mouth."

"Actually, Cuddy told me. She heard it from Beth, in Patient Billing, who heard it from Samantha in the pharmacy. Turns out Samantha's brother's a cop in Las Vegas, a Lieutenant Fielding."

House gasped but didn't get the chance to say anything when Chase got on. "Really? I heard it from Jackie in Human Resources."

House groaned…and it was Cameron's turn to jump in there…"Wow…I heard it from…"

House interrupted. "Oh, let me guess? Kevin Bacon? This is "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.", isn't it? Which means it's all over the hospital." Anne snorted and inched closer to the busy pharmacy counter.

"Where are you?" Cameron asked. She'd been worried about him; they hadn't heard from him and she wondered if he'd croaked and nobody knew it; it was when they heard about House's time in jail with a showgirl that alleviated her fears a bit. He seemed to be doing ok if he got arrested for that. However, that didn't quite erase the jealousy she'd felt when she heard about the showgirl.

"I haven't heard from you kids in awhile. Either you haven't had any patients or you're killing them and are too afraid to call me."

"We just got one today; it's looking like sarcoidosis! And only one patient since our last call. Guess what?!?! He actually had lupus!" Chase said.

House groaned. "Well, that's just great. I miss all the good stuff, don't I?" He paused then smiled. "Has Aunt Flow visited Cuddy yet? I know it's her time; I have an internal clock for this sort of thing." Several women around him gave him funny looks but quickly looked away, offended but not wanting to get in the middle of that one.

"I'm fine, House, thanks for asking," the sharp feminine voice of the subject came over the line. "Where are you?"

"Oh, hello Cuddy!" He grinned and looked at Anne, who wasn't holding her laughter anymore. They were the next in line, just waiting for their number to be called. "How are the girls?"

"Which girls?"

"The ones hanging from your chest, of course! Which others would I be referring to?" Several more turned to House in horror; he just shook his head and stuck his tongue at them.

"NUMBER 24!" Anne took House's hand and dragged him to the counter.

"What was that?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, the Madame called my number. It's my turn with Miss Demeanor. From what the brochure says, she's a naughty girl. You know, this is a pretty upscale brothel; you're seeing top quality prostitutes when you've gotta take a number AND they have a brochure. I actually had no idea there were brothels in Salt Lake City; I'm surprised these people even know what a brothel is. I wonder if all these girls are married to the brothel owner. Talk about a family business…" This earned him angry shouting. Fortunately Anne just finished getting the medicine and they could high-tailed it out of there, all the while House finishing his conversation. "Daddy's gotta go, kiddies. Seems they didn't appreciate my little comment. Well, I guess the truth does hurt…" He slapped the phone shut as they got to their rides.

"Greg?!?! Are you INSANE?!?! You've got some nerve saying something like that in the middle of Mormon country."

"Why do you think I said it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's stop at McDonald's and you can take your medicine, then we'll decide where we're going next."

*****

It was decided on Denver, then through Kansas to Kansas City. Having left Salt Lake City at 1:00, they arrived in Denver at around 9:30 p.m., and, locating a room at the Comfort Inn, Anne set up her "wall", which peeved House to no end.

But, like the previous night, he moved the corner of the sheet to watch her sleep; placed Gregorio beside her in the bed; and kissed her goodnight.

And this was the routine as they made their way through Kansas. About 15 miles outside Junction City, they saw a billboard for "The Heritage Underwear Show". "Oh yeah!" House exclaimed and signaled Anne to pull over. Locating a rest stop, House got off his bike, took off his helmet and hobbled over to her. "Let's stop in Junction City."

Anne took off her own helmet and smirked. She'd seen the billboard too. "Oh, let me guess: it has something to do with underwear, doesn't it?"

"Oh yeah. Let's go see the underwear show. Oh can we? Pwease, pwease, PWEASE?!?!?"

"Fine. We'll stay there tonight. We're pretty close to Kansas City. I have a colleague who's from there and she's talked about The Country Club Plaza. It's supposed to be very nice." But he didn't care: his mind was on underwear.

*****


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

**Denver, CO to Junction City, KS: 7 hours; 477 miles;**

**Junction City, KS to Kansas City, MO: 2 hours; 128 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 5,101 miles**

Anne took note of the address and located the building fairly quickly. It was 8:00 p.m. and the show was about to start. Parking, they hurried on inside, with House leading the way…

What they (especially House) didn't realize was that it wasn't exactly a Victoria's Secret show and they weren't going to a "theatre". It was a show at the Geary County HISTORICAL Society…

Stepping inside, they found the ticket booth. "Two for the underwear show," House exclaimed giddily. The man at the desk, a spry-looking gentleman in his mid 70s, gave House a weird look. "This is a private show but…" It finally dawned on the man why House was excited. Smiling himself, he gave them tickets. "…they can take two others." After paying and following the directions the man gave them, they quickly located the small stage. Finding back row seats, they settled in, just in time for the curtain to come up…

What they saw wasn't what exactly what House was looking for: senior-citizen-aged women in antique undergarments from the early 1900s strutting their thing to music from the same era. Anne snorted in an attempt to hold back her laughter.

House narrowed his eyes, pointed to the show and looked at Anne. "Hey…wait a minute…this isn't what we paid for."

"Honey," Anne choked as she watched the women posing and flaunting the corsets and pantaloons. She saw how the rest of the audience seemed to be expecting what they were watching. "I think it IS what we paid for."

"Let's go. I'm not going to watch a bunch of old birds flapping around in underwear from the dinosaur age." He made a move to stand up but she placed her right hand on his chest, pushing him back in the seat.

"It would be rude to leave now. Sit back. You might learn something." She looked back at the show but kept her hand on his chest. Suddenly, as if her hand were burning on his chest, she lifted it away but it became caught in his rougher, larger one. Looking down, she saw he'd laid it on his left thigh, covering it with his left hand. Quickly looking back at the show, she couldn't breathe; couldn't think…and definitely couldn't pay attention to the yards and yards of vintage antique underwear walking by them. Her complete attention was on his hand.

And House? Well, being the man that he was, he couldn't concentrate just on the position (or how close her hand was to…HIM) of her hand when underwear, no matter which era, was flashing in front of him. Despite his outburst, he really was enjoying himself…and began having odd thoughts of Anne in a corset. Or at the very least a bustier. And garter belt…black silk panties…black nylons…

"Greg?" Ten minutes later the show was over but House was staring straight ahead, his look completely relaxed. She could tell his mind had wandered. She withdrew her hand but he still stared ahead. "Greg?" She shook his shoulder. "GREG!!!" This roused him from wherever he was.

"Wha…what??" He looked back at her and she saw the drool on his chin.

Anne looked at him, surprised. "Good grief. Don't tell me you were actually LIKING this show?"

He grinned and swept a look across her body. "Nope. I was picturing you in a corset…which quickly changed to bustier, garter belt…"

"Shut it. I don't want to know. Come on. We need to find some food and a hotel." Anne stood up and pulled him out of his seat.

"Yeah…hotel room would be NIIICEEE…" he mumbled, his thoughts still lingering on Anne's underwear.

"Oh give me a break…" she walked away from him, hoofing it out of the theatre. Passing the ticket seller, she gave him an exasperated look, at which he simply chuckled and shook his head. They weren't the first…nor the last…to stumble onto something that wasn't what they thought.

*****

Finding the Courtyard by Marriott, they checked in and Anne, more eager than before, set up her "wall of Jericho". She knew the look in his eyes and could tell what he was thinking: now, more than ever, he hated the "wall". He wanted to be with her. Judging from the determination in her carriage…it wasn't going to happen. At least, anytime soon.

Sighing, they settled down for the disappointingly lonely night. Just as she was drifting to sleep, House muttered, "Why did you really wear that showgirl's costume?"

Anne's eyes popped open at this. "I had to keep an eye on you."

"But couldn't you have been one of the audience members? There were women everywhere in that theatre."

"Go to sleep Greg. I don't have the time or the energy to justify my actions to you."

"You know what I think?"

Anne groaned and placed the pillow over her head. "What?"

"I think you WANTED to wear the outfit; I think it's some secret fantasy of yours. I bet you felt like a real woman in all those sequins and headdress."

_Am I REALLY that transparent?_ She thought. _How did he get it? Or maybe he DIDN'T get it and is taking a wild stab in the dark, just waiting for me to flub up. Forget it, buddy…it's NOT going to happen._

"Good night Greg," she muttered and he chuckled.

"I wonder: do you have a secret fantasy about being a dominatrix as well? Because I can CERTAINLY help you with that one…"

*****

And, as usual, Anne awoke to find Gregorio beside her; the "wall" moved; and Greg's snoring head being the first thing she saw. It was now their pattern, a way for them to communicate without touching and so much was spoken between them in those few actions. She'd soon found herself waking up in anticipation of finding this situation.

Anxious to get on the road, she got up and got ready then went downstairs to breakfast. Thirty minutes later, as she was sitting in the rather crowded breakfast area of the hotel, reading the local paper and munching on a bagel, she heard the distinctive STEP-STEP-THUMP of her husband. Bracing herself for whatever onslaught he chose to throw at her, he seemed amazingly calm and rather chipper.

Until he spoke. "Good morning wifey-dear. How was the sex last night? Did I give you everything you wanted?"

And those poor travelers; they did NOT need to hear about that so early in the morning. Several women gasped as they covered their children's ears and their husbands did their best to hide their own snickers.

Anne played along, despite her mortification. "No, hubby. You didn't fulfill my every fantasy. I think we need to try again, before we leave."

"Good idea. I need some fuel." He pointed to the coffee machine and she high-tailed it out of there, grateful to get away from that situation. They needed to leave, as soon as possible…before he made a complete fool of himself…and of her.

*****

**Junction City, KS to Kansas City, MO: 2 hours; 128 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 5,101 miles**

They left around 11:00 and arrived in Kansas City by 1:00. Finding a room at The Holiday Inn, near the Country Club Plaza, they decided to explore the city. Retrieving a map from the concierge, they took her bike and began motoring around the city.

Stopping at Plaza III, a steakhouse that the tourist map said was a "Kansas City treasure", they parked in a nearby parking garage and hoofed it over. After being seated, the waiter took their beverage orders and they studied the menu.

Out of the blue, House asked, as he was perusing the menu, "Would you go out with me tonight?"

Anne stopped reading and looked up to find him still reading the menu, almost as if what he asked was about something as mundane as the weather and not something completely un-House-like. When she didn't answer right away, House looked up to find her staring at him. "What? What's so unusual about that?"

"Like a date-date, where I get all pretty and wear a pretty dress; you get cleaned up and wear a nice suit?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"But I don't have anything to wear."

House sighed and looked out the window. "From what we've seen, there's no shortage of fancy duds around these parts."

"Duds? These parts? We aren't in Dodge City Greg."

"Will you or will you not?"

It might give House the wrong impression is she seemed too eager (which she was) so she simply shrugged, went back to her menu and said, "Ok."

"Good." He pulled out the map and began scanning it while Anne went back to her menu. Truthfully that woman couldn't breathe as she thought of what this meant.

"What are you going to get?" She asked as a way of trying to break the ice.

"What about The Skies?" He finally asked.

"HUH? What kind of dish is 'The Skies'?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. I meant for dinner." He turned the map around and handed it to her. Reading that it was the only revolving restaurant in Kansas City and that the food was superb, she was happy with his choice.

"Sure." Her mind was whirling, swirling around, trying to make sense of everything.

"Great." And nothing more was said.

*****

After a phenomenal lunch, they decided to go shopping. "Ok, how about if I meet you here in two hours?" She asked House as they stood on the front steps of Plaza III.

He frowned at her. He looked kind of hurt. "Do you mean I can't go with you? I could hold things for you…help you reach that hard-to-reach zipper…" He began leering at her. "…and if you need opinions on underwear I'd make sure you'd get an honest one."

She smiled. "I'm sure. After last night's show, you've probably seen it all. Greg, I hate shopping with people, even my girl friends. We don't shop."

"Did John ever go?" House asked rather reluctantly.

Anne looked down then back up. "Nope. And even if I would let him go, he never had the time anyway. Shopping was never something he penciled in for me. There really wasn't much he'd do just for me. His work and his schedule were always more important to him." She paused and studied him. "You probably don't have a suit. There's a Brooks Brothers here. I won't go to someplace fancy, in a fancy dress, and have you wear jeans." He sighed and nodded. "Two hours?" he nodded again. "Ok. I'll see you later?" He nodded one more time. She watched his face, the hurt still written all over it. Not caring who saw, Anne leaned forward and kissed him. He immediately responded, pulling her to him and sinking his fingers into her hair. The way he sucked on her bottom lip made her forget the lunch they'd just had. He seemed almost parched and her lips were the only relief.

Anne finally pulled away, knowing full well that if they didn't stop, they WOULD forgo shopping…and dinner…altogether. She couldn't do that. Anne appreciated the time spent learning about one another; this was their time to become best friends before they went to bed. Clearing her throat, she whispered to him, "Two hours. Are you going to be all right?" He closed his eyes and caught his breath then nodded. Anne thought of something and held up her hand. "Greg, let me see your phone."

"Why?" he asked, even as he was pulling it from his back pocket.

"I'm going to program my phone number in it. Call me…whenever, even when I'm half-naked and trying on clothes." He groaned at this as he watched her expertly enter her number into his not-so-surprising sparse phone book. Once she finished she handed him the phone back and kissed that white patch of stubble she loved. "I'll see you later, ok?"

He nodded and, dejectedly, turned in one direction, heading for…who knows where. Her heart broke and she suddenly realized she missed him. Already. _'Oh no,' _she thought as she went the opposite direction. _'What's going to happen when he's gone?'_

*****


	43. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Five minutes after they parted, she found the Anthropologie and was browsing when her cell rang. Pulling it out she saw it was Greg. Smiling yet rolling her eyes at the same time, she answered, "Hello?"

"What are you wearing?"

"It's none of your business. Are you going to keep calling me? Because if you do I'll never find anything to wear."

He chuckled. "Well, they won't let you in NAKED…I guess we'll just have to stay in tonight."

"But this was your idea."

"You'll soon find that I'm very easily distracted."

"Good bye Greg."

"Bye." CLICK. She chuckled and shut her phone. Smiling and shaking her head, she continued shopping.

*****

An hour, six stores and 10 phone calls later, Anne ended up at Guess?, a store she never shopped at but figured, "Oh, why not? It might surprise me." She was not there five minutes when she found…IT…THE dress. And it fit her perfectly, accentuating the right curves and adding the right illusion. She just hoped he loved it.

As she walked out of the store, her phone rang. Again. She sighed as she plastered on a smile and answered. "Hello Greg."

"I see you found something." Her head shot up as she looked around. He could see her! She looked across the street and found him leaning against the front of Banana Republic, a Banana Republic hanger-bag slung over his shoulder. She smiled at the thought…_'I hadn't thought of Banana Republic. Even better.'_

Looking both ways, she jogged across the street. "Hey," he said, smiling when she got to him. She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Lately she'd found herself more and more eager to kiss him, to be around him; he seemed to stir something in her she never knew existed. Pulling away she smiled. "I see you found something too."

House looked at his watch. 5:30. "I made dinner reservations for 8:30. Wanna kill some time around the city until then?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I want to take a nap. I'm really tired."

They walked back to the bike. "Will naptime require the "wall"?"

Anne smirked as she pulled her helmet on. "No. I'm probably safe."

*****

By 8:00, both were rested up and ready to go. House was quite anxious to see what she got but she'd barricaded herself in the bathroom. This woman was absolutely amazing. She was everything he'd ever wanted…and he hadn't even slept with her. The quick smile that always came to his whiskered lips whenever he thought of her would always pass just as quickly when the melancholy, so familiar to him, would take over. And knew the moment it took over…but he didn't care. He needed something comfortable and familiar; something he always knew would never leave him.

Not unlike the increasing fear that she would leave him before he died.

And it was this fear that kept him up, watching Anne sleep, wandering how she found peace when he was obviously so tormented. It was her peace that calmed him at night; that gave him strength to get through the next day…and made him hurt and angry at the same time. HE desired that peace and she sometimes drove him nuts with the vitality; the life; the wonderment that was Dr. Anne Donaldson.

There was no question: it was love. He loved her with every fiber of his being; he just was so angry with her for being everything he wanted…and everything he loathed at the same time.

House began pacing. She still wasn't out. "Aren't you done yet?"

"Meet me downstairs. Hail a cab."

House sighed and left. Anne emerged, put the final touches on her ensemble, then left.

*****

He almost didn't recognize her…and the dress was phenomenal: it was a royal-blue (the technical color name was "indigo shadow"), deep-V neckline dress with tank straps and ruched banding to form an empire waist. The semi-sheer, A-line skirt stopped about two inches above her knees. The added bonuses of silver ankle-strapped shoes; teardrop-heart necklace with 4" drop collar; silver bangles and silver hoops rounded out the look. House became dizzy…not unlike the feelings stirring in Anne…

She could've sworn the charcoal-gray suit with flat-front pants, white shirt and light purple tie were made for him. Both were completely speechless as they surveyed one another. House finally gulped which broke the silence. "I'm…um…"

Anne's eyes, as big as saucers, took in the sleek lines of the suit. "Um…shall we…go?" Her voice cracked and she coughed.

*****

The restaurant was amazing, with an incredible view of the city; the wine was vintage and delicious; the food was top-rate…and the company was unsurpassed, complete with low whispers and revealed secrets. Neither had experienced such a bond with another, no matter how serious he was with Stacy or how her relationship with John was. This was something all-together new: very scary and very frustrating as well.

The only black cloud was the cancer. No matter how hard they tried they couldn't flirt; they couldn't kiss; they couldn't desire; they couldn't talk their way around that. It hung over them audaciously.

As Anne bit into her tiramisu, she watched House knock his black-forest cake slice over and dig into it, just like a five-year-old. She grinned. "I've always wanted to be a Vegas showgirl. That's why I wore that stupid costume." _'Ok, how did that happen? I swore I'd never say a word. Ok…I'm ready for it. Lay it on me…'_

He momentarily stopped mid-bite. Regarding her, he finished his bite, laid down his fork, took a sip of wine and smirked. "Well, I guess that would make sense. After all, you are Jimmy's cousin and you're both repressed."

Anne narrowed her eyes at this. "I am NOT repressed!"

"Ok, if you aren't repressed then describe your sex life with John."

"Excuse me?!?! I'm not going to talk about that with you!"

"Why not? I am your husband. I bet you're embarrassed: he was probably so uptight and organized he'd plan his orgasms right down to the minute, including how long it would take. Oh, and after that, he'd roll away and mark another day off his calendar, happier when he nailed his schedule than when he nailed you."

Now she was hurt. _'Why was he doing this? Things were going so well between us.' _"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

He couldn't stop. For some reason, she had to feel his pain, the pain of impending death. "I bet you had only one position. And forget about foreplay: his idea of foreplay was for you to describe how you'd rearrange the garage. Did he get more turned on as you described where he should hang his rake?"

She was becoming angry…hurt…and upset: not upset because he was saying those things (the anger already covered that); no, she was upset because everything he said was true. Her eyes became blinded by the tears that welled from his distressing words. It was the next comment that sent her over the edge: "And you took it like the Goody-two-shoes that you are. I bet you were glad when he died." Crying out, she stood up, grabbed her water and threw it in his face. Running from the restaurant to the bank of elevators (the only entrance/exit to the restaurant), she blindly, furiously punched the down button as Greg sat at the table.

And he did something he'd never done before: in front of all those people who stared at him in shocked wonderment, he got up from the table, located the empty men's room, locked the door…and cried.

*****


	44. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

Three hours later it was 1:00 in the morning and Anne was lying in a bed, waiting for House. She'd set up the "wall" but left it open. No matter what that insensitive jerk had said to her, she still needed to know he was ok.

And no matter what that insensitive jerk had said to her, she still loved him.

In fact, those three hours had been the best for her: after crying for a long time (over what he said; why he said it; the reality that was her life with John) and having a long talk with Gregorio, whom she'd complimented on his tremendous listening skills, she was much calmer. Now, she needed to speak with the expert on House…James.

"Hello?"

"James? It's Anne."

James paused…and what he said next completely knocked her socks off. "You fell in love with House, didn't you? And after I SPECIFICALLY told you NOT to. What do you expect me to do?"

"Just listen." And he did as she spilled out what was said (leaving out the fact that they were on a date) and why he could've said what he said.

When she was done, he said, "Oh wow. He's in love with you too."

"You can't be serious. House doesn't love anybody but House."

"That's very true but he still loves you. Anne, House is very complicated…and very simple…at the same time. He's mad at the entire world for him being sick. He's also jealous that everyone else gets to live while he has to die. You, my dear cousin, are so full of life and energy that you remind him of what he can't have: the rest of his life. In his own way, he wanted you to hurt like he hurts; he wanted you to pay for living while he has to go on dying. While this self-centeredness doesn't sound like a man in love, if he didn't love you, he wouldn't want you to understand him; he wouldn't have made the effort to hurt you…and hurt you where it hurts the most. If he didn't love you, he wouldn't have cared. In his own twisted way, he was trying to make you understand. Does that make sense?"

Her head hung in realization. "Perfect. I need to talk to him but he hasn't come back yet."

"Where are you?"

"Kansas City."

"Call me if…or when…you hear from him."

She sighed, still worried about her wayward husband. "Will do. Oh, and James? Thank you for listening."

"Anne, I still hate this. Have you slept together yet?" James' voice came out very quiet, very forced.

"No we haven't."

He sighed with relief yet he was very surprised that House was acting this way with someone he hadn't slept with. "Call me when he returns."

*****

House finally returned to the hotel at 1:30 after spending the evening a block away from The Skies at the Liberty Memorial, the United States' official World War 1 memorial. Sitting underneath the 217-foot Memorial Tower, House studied the panoramic view as he thought about Anne and what he did. It took three hours to realize what an oaf he was…

When he walked into the hotel room, he found the "wall" up…but moved aside; Anne lying on the bed, awake and waiting for him…and Gregorio lying in her arms. For a-longer-than-brief moment he was consumed with jealousy for that bear. It should be HIM that was lying in her arms.

For a few moments, no one said anything as he sat on the bed opposite her. Suddenly Anne broke the stillness with, "Where were you? I was worried."

He opened his mouth to snark back about "Old married bitties" when he saw the genuine concern on her face…and then remembered he had no right to snark back. She was concerned, that was for sure. And, given his performance in the restaurant, she was being very gracious to even be this civil and concerned in the first place.

"I had to think."

"Three hours of thinking?! I didn't realize you could go for that long. I'd have thought you'd need a break."

He looked at her and laughed, relief spreading across him. "You'd be amazed at what I can do."

She smiled and sat up, pulling the covers closer around her. "Greg, there's something I want to tell you and you can take this however you want; it's just very important that I tell you." She paused then studied his curious face. "There's a TV show about a man who, as a very young boy, discovered he could bring dead people back to life with just the touch of his finger."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, "Yeah, I've heard of that show. A bunch of bleeding hearts watch it. Stupid people."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Well, THIS stupid bleeding heart," he smirked as she continued, "watches it. See, when he touches a dead person, the person comes back to life but for only one minute. If, after one minute, he doesn't touch them again, that person lives but another person dies in their place."

He was starting to get upset. "Do you have a point here? Or did you decide that wasting my time with inane chitchat about a completely implausible television show was enough payback for the things I said tonight?"

"Is it?"

"You're getting there."

She smirked. "Just let me finish, ok?" He huffed but nodded. "The only problem is that once he touches that person he brought back to life, they are dead again. Forever. Period. He can never bring them back to life. This happened to his childhood sweetheart, the only girl he ever loved. Now, they live in agony because they can never touch, skin-on-skin, each other or she'll die. Greg," Anne paused and looked down at her wringing hands. She hadn't even realized she was doing that. "I die every time you touch me…and I live every time you touch me. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She mustered the courage to look up and his eyes were wide as shock filled them. Dr. Gregory House knew enough about love to know exactly what she was talking about…he just wanted to hear her explain. She could see from his look he wasn't lost.

He shook his head. "Could you explain it?"

She smiled then sighed. "As a woman, I come alive whenever we touch…but my heart dies at the same time because I know we only have these short months. And what you said in the restaurant hurt. You completely blindsided me with the hurtful truth. After such an amazing few days I just didn't expect you to do that. In all my life, I've never imagined I could hurt as much as I did tonight, much more than I'd ever been hurt before, even more than John could ever have hurt me."

Now he was confused. "Why? I thought he was the love of your life."

Her heart painfully contracted. "He WAS…until I fell in love with you."

Now HE'D been blindsided by the truth. The LAST thing he expected, on his way back, was to hear everything she'd said. He expected yelling…punching…or silence...but never a declaration of love. Not quite knowing how to process it, but knowing he had to kiss her, he stood up and moved to sit beside her. When she didn't say anything about crossing the "wall", he felt encouraged as he leaned over and cradled her face in his hands. He so desired to tell her what was in his heart but how does a hardened misanthropic jerk declare something so sacred, so precious, to someone like her?

As if she could see the war in his heart, she murmured, "You don't have to say anything. Just kiss me." And he complied, tasting her lips as if he'd been gone for far too long…as if life-giving nectar sprang from her lips.

Suddenly the kisses became more urgent, more heated as they moved closer together…

_**(clearing of throat) Excuse me…**_

House ignored Mr. Conscience as he pushed her to the bed, her hands in his hair, his fingers leaving a burning trail down her neck to the buttons of her shirt.

_**Hey, you, loverboy…**_

His deft fingers began working the front of her shirt and she moaned in expectation and desire. Clearly she was too overcome to stop him. Something had to be done…and quickly.__

_**Ok, that's it…**_It wasn't quite clear what__Mr. Conscience did but House pulled away from her, clutching his head. Mr. Conscience wasn't about to let Hormone-Boy here ruin the arrangement they had. It was working beautifully and they needed to make it to New Jersey.

_**Why I oughtta…**_

_**You oughtta…what? You are so close to New Jersey…and she's worth the wait. Did you even HEAR what she said? You've been doing so well. Just wait it out. Please?**_

Judging from her swollen, red lips, tousled hair and hazy gaze, she was just as into the kiss as he was. But within that haze of desire she recognized that he had stopped…for her. And gratitude filled her eyes.

It was this gratitude, strangely-enough, that warmed his heart and made him feel almost like a hero. For once, he was completely and positively proud of his actions.

He stood up and hobbled to the bathroom. "It's late. Why don't we go to sleep?"

When he closed the door behind him, she nodded and replaced Gregorio back on the nightstand. She needed him to place him beside her. Shutting the "wall", she settled down but sleep didn't come quite so quickly as her mind…and her body…filled with Greg. But he still hadn't done his nightly routine when she finally fell into a rather unsettled sleep.

*****

When she awoke, she found the "wall" open; Gregorio beside her and Greg asleep in the next bed. Her heart was warmed…

And her loins tingled.

"_Maybe I should suggest we take the train back…'_

*****


	45. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

**Kansas City, MO to Cleveland, OH: 12½ hours; 825 miles.**

**TOTAL TRAVEL MILES SO FAR: 5,926 miles**

The next morning, as they prepared to leave, Anne asked, "What if we took the train back to New Jersey? It won't be so hard on you and you can relax on the way back."

He really knew why she was asking; after all, he wanted to get home right away himself. And it was for this reason House decided not to defend himself in his usual defensive "Leave me alone, I'm fine." manner. But this was a trip he wanted to finish. It was something he'd always wanted to do and to quit now, while they were so close to completely it, would be foolish.

"Nope, I want to finish this. I want to complete something before I die." He turned away from her to finish packing. Her eyes filled with tears, like it always did when the thought of him leaving came up.

"Well, look on the bright side," he began, talking to his backpack, "you get to stare at my butt the entire way back. I mean, what girl wouldn't want that?" There HE was…and he hadn't gone far.

Anne grinned and closed her saddlebag. The evening clothes were in their garment bags, ready to be left with the concierge to be overnighted to New Jersey. "Not if I race you," she said. This made House stop what he was doing and turn around. When he saw the challenge in her eyes, his own narrowed playfully.

"Oh, you're going down," he snarked back and grabbed his backpack, race-limping out the door, leaving her giggles in his dust.

*****

For the next two days House and Anne drove hard, covering 825 miles and arriving in Cleveland, Ohio, mid-morning. After finding another Holiday Inn, they checked in and decided to rest for awhile in their room. In no mood to talk, Anne grabbed the complimentary map located by the phone, on the desk. Skimming through the list of what makes Cleveland famous, she stopped at one. Grinning, she looked up to find House lying on the bed, his eyes closed peacefully.

With the courage that only comes from familiarity (and desire), Anne sat on the bed beside him, still watching as he didn't stir. The slight smirk that began pulling at his mouth, though, told her he knew she was there. It was this courage that made her bold as she leaned to his face and whispered, "Take off your jeans."

That got his attention. He opened his eyes to find her inches away, looking into his blue eyes. He gave her an exited, yet suspicious, brow lift. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm bored and I want to shave your legs."

House grinned at this one. He loved her wit. "Really?" He rubbed his chin contemplatively. "Hmmm…Epilady or Disposable Bic? Because the last time I used an Epilady, I got this horrible rash all over my…"

She held up her hand, determined to refrain from hearing about "the rash". "Ok, ok. I want to rub your leg."

He sat back and regarded her for a moment. In the short time he knew her, he'd come to realize she wasn't the type with an ulterior motive so he decided to play along.

"I don't need to take off my jeans for you to rub my leg."

"Don't you want my hands all over your naked leg?"

'_She has a point.'_

"Oh, all right. The sacrifices I make for you…" he murmured as he shed the motorcycle jacket and his shoes. Sitting up again and, with his eyes never leaving hers, carefully unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the fly and slid the zipper down, the sound of the unlocking metallic teeth deafening in the quiet room. Lifting his hips up, he effortlessly shed the pants to reveal long, muscular hairy legs. Her breath quickened. _'Oh why did I do that?'_

_**Because you're a REPRESSED coy vixen,**_ Ms. Conscience said.

_**I'm working on that. Wouldn't you be a coy vixen if you were in this situation?**_ She asked her as she took in the grey boxer briefs, nearly the same color as the hair on his legs.

_**Good point. Continue…**_

"Happy now, you wench?" He asked, his tone in an exaggeratedly helpless tone.

She looked into his smug eyes that said, "See what I'm talking about? Now THIS is a great lookin' male specimen…all except that hideous repulsion that's my right leg." Ignoring what his eyes were screaming, she finally took a good look at the scar. She was anything but repulsed; in fact, she felt almost honored because she knew he didn't wear the wound as a badge; that very few ever got this rare opportunity. She finally discovered how much he truly did trust her.

Sighing gently, Anne leaned over and began rubbing. He immediately leaned back against the headboard, closed his eyes and moaned involuntarily. She watched his face ease up, his enjoyment of the moment quite apparent. "You've been riding a motorcycle for weeks; that's got to be murder on your leg. I can already feel how tense you are."

He grinned but didn't open his eyes. "That's not from riding the motorcycle."

She grinned stupidly, flattered beyond words. She looked away and found the map she'd discarded on the bed. Leaving one hand massaging his scar, she picked it up and turned back to find him watching her, clearly wondering where her hand went. "Here," she said, handing him the map. "…it's the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. Judging from that piano contest in Texas I can see you love music." His eyes lit as he read the information blurb. "What do you say?"

"Awesome. Not until we're finished here, though; I've got my priorities." House's grin turned giddy.

*****

They arrived at the museum a little after noon. As they stood in line for tickets, House noticed the "VIP GUIDED TOUR" information brochure. Picking it up, he read about the in-depth guided tour of the museum and the intimate, behind-the-scenes look at the Museum vault, the secured area where artifacts that weren't currently on display were kept. "THIS is what I want." House said as he waved the brochure in front of Anne. She took it from him and read about the two-weeks-in-advance-reservation stipulation.

"Huggums, dear, did you read this fine print? It says you've got to book two weeks in advance for this."

The twinkle in his eye suggested he had a scheme…a temper tantrum, perhaps?

"But I want THIIISSSSS!" He reclaimed the brochure and waved it again, shouting like a three-year-old in a candy store who wasn't getting his way. Everyone in line turned then looked at Anne like, "Can't you control him?" She shrugged in response, as if to say, "Would YOU like to try?"

"Excuse me, sir…" a young man of about 30 came from nowhere, intent on diffusing the situation. "…what seems to be the problem??"

"I want THIIISSSSSS!" he screamed again, waving the brochure one more time.

The man took it, read it and gave it back. "I'm sorry, sir. You need a reservation. You are unable to go on that tour."

Anne took over, finally realizing how talented she was at manipulating the truth to get her own way. At least she didn't have to COMPLETELY lie: she did hold the fatal illness card. She just needed to embellish a bit. "Sir, excuse me. I must apologize for my husband." She sighed and looked at her feet, a tactic similar to her Vegas showgirl act. She looked back up, seemingly to struggle for control of her emotions. "We just found out he's dying of stomach cancer and only have about four months to live. On a spur of the moment, we decided to take time from our jobs so we could be together, to try to do all the things we'll never be able to do…when he's gone…" she paused to covertly gauge the reactions of the people around her. They were listening intently, some of the women wearing forlorn looks.

She looked up at Greg, real tears shining in her eyes. "We'd only been married three months, so happy, so content because we'd finally found the love of our lives, when he was diagnosed. We'd already missed out on a whole lifetime and, when we found each other, we thought we'd be able to start anew." She smiled ruefully…but the love she felt for House shined brightly in her eyes. "When you love someone, no matter what age you are, you act like children, all giddy and silly." Anne looked around, including the crowd in her explanation. "And now it's too late; we only have these few precious moments together." She took his hand and laced it in hers. She looked back at the employee whose scowl had been replaced by grief. "Greg is an avid musician who lives and breathes his music. We came here to make this dream of his come true." She smiled weakly then sniffled gently. "Isn't there SOMETHING you can do?"

By now women were weeping and men were holding their wives, remembering their once young love. The young man, wiping his eyes, nodded quickly. "Of course. Forgive us. Follow me and we'll get you all set up."

House, by now completely confused (since everything happened so quickly), but nonetheless absolutely aroused by her deception, quickly walked through the crowd who offered their condolences. Once free from the crowd, House leaned over to his wife and said, "That's got to be the most erotic thing I've ever seen in my life. Can we fool around later?"

*****

Not only did their exaggerated story work, they also got vouchers for free lunch and souvenirs. "Your guide is Janice Hancock. She's the Tour Guide Coordinator; you couldn't have received a better tour guide. She's the best and an absolute peach. Enjoy and thank you for visiting The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and Museum." The young man gave them a sad smile then turned away.

"Dr. and Mrs. House?"

They turned to find a short woman in a black "ROCK 'N' ROLL HALL OF FAME" polo shirt, khaki skirt and white Keds sneakers. She looked to be in her early 50s with a beautiful mane of shoulder-length dark, curly hair; large bright brown eyes and a gentle smile. But what stood out the most was her nametag, which read: "MUM".

Anne tilted her head and pointed to the nametag. "If your name is Janice, why does your nametag say 'MUM'?"

Janice/Mum smiled. "That's what everyone calls me. I'm kind of the den mother of the Museum; I make cookies, give advice, scold when I have to. Speaking of scolding…" Mum looked at House. "…I hear someone put up a fit. Has someone not had their nap?"

House narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but Anne snaked her arm through his and squeezed, as if to say "SHUT UP".

"Yes, Mum. He was just screaming because he thought he couldn't get his way."

Mum chuckled and nodded. "My husband does that too." House opened his mouth to say something again but Anne squeezed even harder. They walked to the entrance of the Museum. "Well, as Jack said, welcome to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. Today we'll see many exhibits and tour the vault. So, just let me know if you need to sit and rest. Remember, this is your tour."

She turned and led them to the first exhibit but not before House snarked, "Do you have Madonna's ice-cream cone bra? And if you do, can Anne try it on??"

*****


	46. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

For three hours, the trio casually walked through exhibit after exhibit, including a new exhibit on The Doors, The Who's John Entwistle's base guitar and, of course, the Hall of Fame.

By 3:30, all three were tired; House's stomach and leg hurt; and both Houses had had their fill of rock 'n' roll history. However, they didn't want to part ways with Mum just yet. She was on top of her rock 'n' roll information: she knew all kinds of stories and she certainly had a way of making the visitor feel like they were actually there, living the stories with the performers.

"Mum," Anne began, as all three sat down on a bench with a sigh, "would you like to eat with us? We are really enjoying ourselves and would hate to part ways quite yet."

Mum smiled at the couple. She knew the story they gave Jack but she didn't feel that was quite the story. Unfortunately for House, Mum was intensely curious by nature as well and was determined to find out what was really going on. "Sure. I'd love to eat with you. The great thing about being the boss is setting your own hours and pretty much doing what you want."

House nodded with enthusiasm bordering on glee. "Don't I know it."

"And he takes full advantage of it, too," Anne finished, taking her husband's hand. He playfully narrowed her eyes at him and she looked away, almost embarrassed.

Not only was Mum curious and determined, she was also incredibly perceptive. She could read people and their actions. And her eyes widened at this exchange: she saw the love between them, there was no doubt about that…but there was something else there. She was acting almost like a virginal bride before the wedding night, nervous and embarrassed.

"Well, I'm hungry," Mum said, now more than ever eager to find out the story of this couple. From what she could see, it was anything but usual. "Let's go. The café downstairs makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich."

*****

As they were waiting for their food, House stood up, turned to Anne and pointed over his shoulder to the restrooms just across the hall. "I'll be back."

"Ok."

Once House was out of earshot, Mum pounced. "Anne, what's really the story between you two? What you told Jack isn't quite right was it?"

Anne, knowing she was busted but feeling she could trust Mum, sighed and shook her head. "No it's not. Will we get in trouble?"

Mum smiled but shook her head. "No. This was the best tour I've ever given, and I was the first tour guide hired when it opened in 1995. I really like you folks. I just bet whatever you have to say will be very interesting."

"Interesting is right…" Briefly, Anne spilt the real story, stating that House really was dying of stomach cancer in about four months and that they were taking a cross country trip…but gave Mum the right information. She was about to tell Mum about the real relationship between husband and wife but their food was ready and House was exiting the bathroom. She didn't want to talk about how they weren't quite husband and wife in front of the husband in question.

"Wow." Mum said as she picked up her tray and found a prime spot, the Houses following. Mum knew there were also juicier bits but she'd just have to wait because, from the looks of how House was devouring his lunch, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

*****

They finished eating and were heading to the exit door when House's attention became diverted to an exhibit they briefly touched on but didn't spend much time with. This was the opportunity both women seized. Anne and Mum sat down on a nearby bench, one with a perfect view of House.

"Ok, Anne…" Mum began, keeping tabs on the husband in question. "Spill out."

"We, um…" And, in low tones, Anne rounded out the story, including the piano contest in Texas; meeting at Canada's bike shop in California; and getting thrown into jail, while wearing a showgirl's getup, in Las Vegas, which had Mum chuckling softly.

"Either you loved him then or you had some secret fantasy to be a showgirl…" Mum said once she'd calmed. When Anne didn't deny it right away, Mum was surprised to hear this. "I'm right? Which one was it?"

"Both, actually. It was the fantasy that made me dress in that stupid costume…but it was my love for that tactless oaf that made me marry him. Mum…" she didn't know how to continue so she took a breath right here, "Mum…" she started again. "…we agreed to get married because I wanted to take care of him these last months. I don't know why he agreed; after all, he's a doctor with a staff of his own and one of them is a pretty, young woman who fancies herself in love with him. She'd take care of him in a heartbeat. I don't know why he agreed to me when he could have her."

Mum interrupted her there. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, he's in love with you."

Anne looked at her hands. "That's what James said over the phone and he's still hundreds of miles in New Jersey."

"Then what's really going on? You seem surprised he'd marry you, even when you see he may be in love with you."

"I was, and am, still surprised. I proposed, he said no way and stormed out of the hotel room. The next morning, I awoke to find him willing to marry me but with the stipulation that we be married in name only, at least until we got back to Jersey. That way we'd know if we could be together. If we hadn't ripped each other to shreds by the time we got back to Jersey then we could…um…"

Now THIS was something Mum wasn't expecting. To cover her surprise Mum swallowed and looked back to find Greg…but he wasn't anywhere in sight. "Do the deed?" Mum suggested. Anne nodded. "Why did he do that?"

"She said she didn't want to be the sexual distraction to my problems. She needs structure and marriage was the way." House quietly said. Anne closed her eyes and looked down. She DIDN'T want him to know they were talking about this.

Mum didn't say anything and Anne had the sudden urge to take herself out of that location, at least just temporarily. Looking back up at Mum, whose attention was on both of them, Anne murmured, "Excuse me. I'm going to use the ladies' room." She stood and looked House square in the eye but was surprised to find he wasn't mad. In fact, he seemed almost relieved she was talking about it, an odd response for a man who normally wouldn't talk about anything. She scooted to the restroom and House sat down with a sigh.

Mum suddenly chuckled, taking House completely by surprise. "What?"

She coughed to try to stop the chuckling. "That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you how many times I've looked over to find you staring at Anne. I knew there was something going on; I just didn't expect it to be this. What you are doing seems so out of character for you; you seem like a man who is used to getting what he wants. And you want her." She evaluated him. "From what I can see, you want her so badly it's hurting you more than your physical ailments combined. And this is why you agreed to marry her."

He rolled his eyes. "Does that make me a sissy-boy?"

"No. It makes you a man in love. Have you ever been in love?"

He nodded and stared straight ahead. _**Why do I feel compelled to tell this woman these things?**_ But, once again, Mr. Conscience wasn't around to answer. _**Perhaps he got hung up at the Janis Joplin exhibit.**_ In actuality, House didn't need his conscience to answer that; he liked Mum from the beginning and knew she'd be cool with their story.

"So, if you've been in love before; why is it such a problem now?"

"I'm dying."

And Mum needed nothing else. Those two words said it all: he was dying and they couldn't make a life together, only moments that hopefully added up to meaningful memories for Anne…but ONLY Anne. This was one complicated couple.

Anne came back. From the short amount of time in the restroom it was obvious she didn't have to use it: she was stepping out of the situation. Not that Mum blamed her.

The wife looked at the husband who was still staring straight ahead. "Are you ready? I'm tired and would like to go back to the hotel."

He nodded…except he didn't want to go back, not if he couldn't have her that night. He'd become so full of her, her essence invading every square millimeter of his own, that he needed to invade her like she invaded him.

Mum, sensing this right away, stood up and cleared her throat. "Well, folks, lets get you two on the road. You've been here long enough; and it seems I'm keeping you from something, doesn't it?"

Anne blushed at this and House sighed…while Mum smirked. _'They just need a push…but I hope they wait until New Jersey. It will be the best thing.'_

*****

"Thank you so much for your amazing tour. I never knew rock 'n' roll could be that interesting," Anne said as she hugged Mum tightly. "And thank you for listening," she added quietly so only Mum could hear.

Mum smiled and patted her back. "That's why I'm here. And send me a card, to the museum; let me know how everything is." Anne nodded and pulled away, tears straining in her eyes.

House looked uncomfortable saying goodbye so Mum did it for him: she shook his hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. House. Take care of Anne, ok? She's one in a million."

He nodded. "Yes she is." He gave her a rueful smile and turned toward the door, avoiding his wife's gaze.

Anne looked back at Mum who smiled sympathetically. "Good luck."

"Thanks." She smiled sadly and turned away, leaving the museum.

*****


	47. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

After leaving the building, House stopped abruptly. "Mommy, can we go back? I wanna go to the gift shop. Pwetty, pwetty pwease?"

Somehow House could always cheer her up while still being the reason she was sad. "Sure, if it means you'll stop that infernal whining."

He grinned mischievously. "Oh tank you Mommy!"

Anne rolled her eyes and grinned but, not in the shopping mood, found a bench near the entrance of the store to watch the people go by. She was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice the person standing in front and beside her…until she looked up…and gasped…

There stood the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on: tan, blond, striking green eyes, a swimmer's build. He was dressed in neatly-pressed khaki pants; a sky-blue oxford shirt, which set off his tan; and white Converse sneakers. Thought the ensemble seemed out of place on such a beautiful specimen, it was almost endearing in a very Wally Cleaver way. Nevertheless, this Wally Cleaver had her completely tongue-tied, like anyone would be when viewing a Greek god. Her stomach fluttered, her eyes widened. Naturally, a woman viewing that epitome of perfection would be interested; how could she NOT be?

He was watching something in the distance but, as if finally noticing where he was and who was around, he looked down to find Anne staring. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" He pointed to the empty half of the bench. Shocked that he was actually talking to her, she took a quick peek in the store to see if she could see House. He seemed occupied with replicas of famous guitars so she felt safe, at least for the time being.

Quickly turning back to The Greek God, she smiled up at him and shook her head. "Nope."

He smiled his perfectly-white smile and sat down, a whiff of musk catching her nose and tingling her senses. "Thanks. My brothers and I have been here for most of the day and I've had enough of rock 'n' roll! It's something I've tried to give up but just can't."

Now she was curious. Why give up rock 'n' roll? "Why are you trying to give it up?"

"It's a door to my past that I want to close."

Now she was very curious. "Before you elaborate on that, I think we should at least introduce ourselves before we speak personally. I'm Mrs. Anne Donaldson-House, from Vermont. My husband…" she pointed to House who was still looking at the guitars, "…is Dr. Gregory House. We're newlyweds, though he's from New Jersey. It's…complicated."

The Greek God smiled and nodded. "I understand. I'm Father Gibson from Southern California."

And NOW she was dying of curiosity: if she'd been a cat all nine lives would've just expired. "_FATHER_ Gibson?"

Father Gibson smiled wider. "Yep. I'm a priest." Her mouth dropped and he chuckled. "It's ok…I get that a lot."

"But…but…" she took a minute to catch her breath. "…but you don't look like a priest! Pardon my ignorance but aren't priests supposed to be old, crotchety and…"

"Ugly?" She was thrown for a loop with that one. "You don't have to answer that. That's usually the stereotype. I get hit on by women before they realize who I am…then confess their sin of flirting with a priest, as if it were some sort of deadly sin."

She smiled easily. It was nice to finally speak with a gorgeous man so easily without having to fight to urge to jump him. No matter how wonderful this man looked, that priest thing was quite the water to the sexual fire. And for Anne, her sexual fire was getting bigger…and bigger…with every moment with House…"Speaking of deadly sins, if you are trying to give up rock 'n' roll, then why come to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame?"

Father Gibson sighed and looked down. "Because it's someplace I've always wanted to visit but The Church is getting ready to send me to Africa, to do God's work there."

She felt compassion for him because he was battling an addiction, just like she was…but she was saying no to House. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she murmured, "Are you scared?"

Father Gibson looked at her and smiled. "No; I'm actually more scared to relapse on rock 'n' roll than going to Africa."

She smiled and opened her mouth to say something when they both heard an angry, "Well, isn't this lovely? You've already got yourself a boy-toy for when your husband bites the dust." Anne turned to find House standing there, holding a large bag and wearing a serious look. His eyes quickly went from her face to her hand on Father Gibson. "And I didn't think you could squeeze the toys before you bought them." He gave her a truly hurtful look before turning and walking several feet to the door.

*****


	48. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

"GREG!" She shouted, more than loud enough. It got everyone's, within 20 feet, attention. "STOP!" And he did, amazingly enough. She stood up, went to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the bench where Father Gibson looked incredibly upset and uncomfortable. House opened his mouth to say something but she immediately held her hand up, effectively shutting him up. "Greg, this is Father Gibson, a PRIEST. Father Gibson, this is my husband, Dr. Gregory House." The eyebrow House raised told them both he didn't believe them any further than he could throw them.

"Yeah right. You're too hot to be a priest."

Father Gibson, while not a wuss, wasn't going to fight him but he did stand up to defend himself. "Believe what you want."

This bothered House. He was hoping to fight over Anne. "Ok," House's eyebrow raised. "If you are a priest, prove it. Show me the secret priestly handshake. Tattoo?? Priest Identification Card??"

Father Gibson grinned at this then turned to Anne who was absolutely mortified. "Mrs. House, your husband really loves you and you're blessed."

This bothered House even more. He wasn't getting a rise…and he was still pissed about seeing them together. "You can't even produce a crucifix?"

"Maybe we can help," a group of five collared men showed up. "This IS Father Gibson."

Anne could see House was starting to believe them but, not waiting around for him to begin flinging religious slander she placed a hand on House's chest. "Let's just go back to the hotel." She didn't wait for a response as she turned to the Father. "Father Gibson, it was lovely to meet you and I wish you well on your trip to Africa."

"Thank you, Mrs. House…and God bless you." He smiled sincerely and stood up, leaving with the other Fathers. She watched him leave then turned back to House, her eyes blaring with anger.

"We're leaving. NOW."

He'd had enough staring by angry females to know that he'd better shut his mouth…but he just couldn't do it without some grumbling under his breath. Not another word was spoken until they got to the bike…then she railed on him.

"I can't BELIEVE you'd doubt what that man said. Why would a man lie about being a priest?"

House looked mortified that she didn't recognize one of the OLDEST tricks in a playa's book. "Exccuuussse me?" He drew out the word to show his disbelief. "I can't believe you BELIEVED that playa. He saw a beautiful woman sitting there and took advantage of that."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you completely dense? The man was a Greek God…he didn't need to pretend to be a priest. He's probably got women falling at his feet."

House opened his mouth then closed it. He knew she was right and that he was just grasping at straws; he just didn't know what came over him. Actually, he did…the man represented everything she could have which was everything opposite of him, everything he suddenly wanted to be but couldn't.

For Anne's part, when she stopped to think about it, it was very…sexy…erotic…burning…to see him get upset over her. It was certainly something John never did.

But that stupid male pride didn't allow him to admit he might be wrong so, without another word, he turned back to the bike and started it up. Stowing the sack, he pulled on his helmet and waited for her to get on behind her. They left the parking lot without a word.

*****

An hour later, they still hadn't said anything but, in some ways, were beyond words as Anne changed into pajamas and ordered exactly what House wanted from room service; House also changed and found a movie they would both like on Pay-Per-View, still without a word passing between them.

After the food was consumed and half the movie was over, House stopped it and looked at Anne who finally broke the deafening, heavy silence with, "What??" He continued to watch her, almost drinking her in, for a good few minutes then he got off the bed and went to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame sack. He hobbled over and dropped the sack on the bed in front of her.

"What's this?"

He smirked and broke his own silence. "Why do people always ask that the minute the person gives them the gift? Just open it already."

Anne grinned like a giddy schoolgirl and opened the bag…then almost cried. She gasped as she pulled out a tan teddy bear wearing a pink leather jacket with "ROCK 'N' ROLL HALL OF FAME" stitched on the back; a black, Fender mini-guitar slung over its shoulder; and a pink bandana over its head. Hugging the obviously girl teddy to herself, she looked at House with eyes full of tears.

"Gregorio gets lonely and who better for the biker dude than a band chick?" He shrugged and looked at his feet but released a tiny, happy smirk from his mouth. "Besides, I'm tired of sleeping alone…" he looked at her. She understood: she had Gregorio as a substitute for Greg…and he now had this bear as a substitute for Anne.

The tears rolled down her face as she looked down at the bear. "Do you have a name?"

House answered for the seemingly-shy bear. "No she doesn't."

"How about Annette?" He didn't get a chance to respond because she threw herself into his arms, hugging him close. She couldn't help herself; still, she should've heeded the _**NO! DON'T DO IT!**_ racing through her brain. It didn't matter; she needed to be in his arms.

His arms immediately held her tighter as he sought her lips, moving his breathlessly over hers. Her lips must've held miracle powers because he found himself apologizing around the hungry nippings… "I'm sorry…" he whispered then groaned when she straddled his lap and took his face in her hands.

"Thank you for being jealous," she whispered, moving her lips to his neck.

"Any time," he moved his hands to her waist, spanning the tiny diameter. Sensing no resistance, he moved his hands under her shirt and up her back then groaned when he found her braless. "Are you trying to kill me?" he gasped, nipping at her earlobe, still rubbing his hands over her back.

"Yeah but what a way to go," she snarked causing him to chuckle against her neck.

"You got that right," he whispered as he began lifting her shirt…

_**I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES, WHERE YOU FROM? YOU SEXY THING, YOU SEXY THING YOU…**_

and his cell phone rang.

She giggled, the moment effectively ruined by the phone ring. "You didn't change it, did you?" She moved away and sat on her bed, waiting for the outcome of this…all the while wondering where the strength to make the last few hundred miles to Jersey would come from.

_**I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES, SINCE YOU CAME ALONG, YOU SEXY THING…**_

"Whoever that is will be MURDERED in their sleep…" he yelled as he picked up the phone.

These last kisses would be even harder to overcome…he felt he was dying already. But amongst the hurtful yearnings was the promise of how great it would be…if he could just wait…

*****


	49. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

**Cleveland, OH to Princeton, NJ: 7½ hours; 463 miles**

**ROUND TRIP MILES: 6,389 miles**

The next morning they left early, determined to get there that night. With each mile, House had an excitement, a sense of anticipation. What was odd was how much he missed that, a feeling he last experienced as a child, one he remembered as generally an exciting emotion. When he was a kid, it was the surprise of "What Could Be" and "How will it be" that kept him going.

With this renewed emotion, in his middle age, it changed to "How will she be?" and "How will she feel against my naked skin"…the first of only many that made the long trip back much shorter than what it was.

*****

They pulled up to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital around 5:00 in the evening, tired, hungry and, in the case of Anne, wondering what she should do next. After all, she was from Montpelier, Vermont, 6½ hours away and when she agreed to this mission, she certainly didn't figure she'd marry the subject in question. She simply figured she'd see the sights; make sure that House was never too far away from her; then she'd go back to her life.

But her life had changed.

He would need her in New Jersey…

…and…

Her eyes widened as she stepped off the motorcycle and removed her helmet.

THEY NEEDED TO TELL JAMES THEY WERE MARRIED.

How does one go about telling your favorite relative they married their insane best friend? STEP-STEP-THUMP. Anne's face was contemplatively panicked as she turned to House who was smirking because he was THAT CLOSE to finally making her HIS woman. His face fell when he saw hers…it was quite obvious it wasn't going to happen in the next 15 minutes. He needed to remedy that problem…and quickly.

"What is it?"

"We've got to tell James."

"Do we have to?"

"YES." Anne secured her helmet and started walking

"Now?"

"YES."

"I'm not getting any until he finds out, right?"

"YES." Anne was smiling by then. The little boy was learning fast.

"Fine but I better stop and tell the children that Daddy's hitched. I just wish I had a camera to capture Cameron's horrified look. She's got a thing for me, you know." He stood up straighter and strutted prouder. Grabbing the elevator to the third floor, House took Anne's hand and led her to the "nursery", as he liked to describe their office to his wife. Inside they found the children playing around the white board with, oddly enough, Cuddy and Wilson also in attendance. Anne sighed with worry as he squeezed her hand and led her in.

"Good evening my children! Well, it looks like the babysitter…" he looked at Wilson and Cuddy while smirking and still holding Anne's hand, "…brought a date over while the kiddies sleep. Are you gonna make out on the couch all night?"

"HOUSE?!?!" Wilson asked then looked at Anne…their joined hands…House…their hands…then back to Anne. "What are you doing here, out of the blue? And what's going on? Why are you holding my cousin's hand?"

"Freak superglue accident. We drove all the way back holding hands. Makes breaking, turning…and potholes…very interesting." House was certainly on a roll.

"Who is this?" a beautiful young female doctor asked. Anne only assumed it was Cameron.

"This is your daddy's babysitter, Dr. Anne Donaldson," House said, still holding his wife's hand. "And Wilson's cousin. If you want to know why she's my babysitter ask your babysitter." He looked at his best friend who was still eyeing the situation skeptically.

The children, and Cuddy, all turned to Wilson who sighed, never taking his eyes from House and Anne's hands. "Anne is my cousin. I asked her to, DISCRETELY," he emphasized to Anne who looked away in embarrassment, "to keep an eye on House while he was gone. She's an avid biker herself."

"And she's the showgirl I was in the pokey with." House proudly admitted. The ducklings eyes widened with realization…

…and it was then that Wilson FINALLY noticed the matching wedding bands.

Wilson's eyes widened to the size of hubcaps as he wordlessly stared at the rings. "OH…MY…GA…HOUSE! WHAT ARE THOSE?!?!?!"

House looked down at their hands, shrugged and looked up again. "They look like round strips of a precious metal called gold. People typically wear them on their fingers to symbolize different things."

Wilson's eyes, now blazing with heat, turned to his cousin. Anne's own widened and she stepped back, partially hiding behind House. "But why are you wearing one? Why is Anne wearing one?" When neither answered Wilson turned his full attention to his cousin. "WHAT IS GOING ON ANNE?"

She looked at House in fright who nodded and moved a bit in front of her to shield her from whatever fury he would lash out. In a quiet voice Anne muttered, "They're wedding rings. We're married."

The entire room gasped with either fright or complete shock…all except for one tiny gasp. The gasp was a sob and Anne didn't have to guess who made that noise.

Wilson shot her a blank stare. "I'm sorry…I don't think I heard you right. Could you repeat that?"

She took a deep breath and, for the first time since entering the hospital, stood up straight. "James, Greg and I are married."

Wilson grew deathly silent as he stared at them, without moving a single muscle, not even a facial muscle. Out of the blue James muttered, "And when did this happen?"

Anne, still hiding behind Greg, peeked around to everyone. She'd never seen such enthralled people before. They were all dying to know everything. "Las Vegas."

Wilson's eyes widened again. "But you kept telling me you weren't sleeping together!"

"We weren't…and we aren't. We wanted to wait until we returned." This statement shocked everyone as much as the "we're married" statement.

"You mean YOU married HOUSE and you haven't even SLEPT together?" Foreman asked disbelief in after syllable of that question.

Anne nodded. "I wouldn't lie about that."

Wilson slowly nodded, a plan obviously forming in his head. "Ok, this won't be so bad. You haven't consummated the relationship…" the newlyweds looked horrified at how public Wilson was making their sex life…complete lack-thereof, that is. "…so you can still annul it."

Anne shook her head. "No I will not James. I love Greg; he makes me feel more alive than I've ever felt, more than John ever did for me." Anne looked at her husband who was watching her with a great deal of pride and respect.

In fact he was so distracted he completely missed seeing Wilson move…

…and was totally blindsided by what happened next…

*****


	50. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

House landed on the floor with a thump, his jaw stinging from Wilson's blow. Wilson stood over him in a cheesy heavy-weight boxing stance, silently daring House to stand up and challenge him.

It was Wilson's machismo that blindsided him from Anne's swing, causing _him_ to land on the floor as well.

And everyone else? They were so shocked by what they saw that they just stared…until Cuddy started applauding Anne. "Thank you Anne for clocking Wilson. He's been acting funny for the past few weeks; I now know why." Cuddy paused and watched as Anne helped her husband up. "Are you really married?"

"Yep. I'm officially off the market. Oh now ladies, dry your eyes; no need to weep over me. You'll find someone else." He looked at Chase, the Australian Moppet. "That includes you my Australian Kangaroo."

Wilson began to stir and Anne pulled House toward the door. "I think we better go." She looked at everyone else. "Please excuse us: we better leave before James commits homicide."

*****

"Greg, take me somewhere and make me forget what just happened." Anne said, pulling House around the corner, before Wilson could come after them. "Take me someplace James won't find us…together."

Not having to be asked twice, House took her to the mental ward. Pulling Anne into a private room, he bolted the door and, for good measure, hung his jacket over the tiny window in the door and stuck a chair under the doorknob.

Turning back to her, he stopped short when he saw her grin. "What?!?!"

"The mental ward??!! When I said someplace I didn't mean next door to whinos, schizophrenics and men with mommy-complexes."

He grinned. "Well, at least no one will pay attention to our moaning; that's all these people do."

Anne's eyebrows raised, still not quite sure she wanted their first time to be in there but, hey? It was better than Wilson finding them and dragging them apart, particularly in the middle of the act. "Are you sure they won't bother us?"

"Absolutely." House said with authority, almost as if he knew the answer from personal experience. He pulled her roughly to him and finally spoke what he should've said much, much earlier. "I love you Anne."

She gasped. So it WAS true. She was still surprised; she never imagined a guy like House would say something like that to her. In her amazement she could do nothing but nod dumbly and whisper, "Me too."

He smirked. "A bit of a narcissist, aren't you? If you love yourself, you aren't supposed to admit it."

This broke the ice. "Narcissism: something you know all about."

"I love it when you insult me," he growled then began ravishing her mouth, assaulting her with urgent kisses. They backed up to the bed and Anne moaned when the backs of her knees hit the bed sides. She eagerly removed her shirt, freeing it from his clutches. Sensing the urgency from EVERY part of him, Anne knew the first time wasn't going to be gentle, slow or tender; it was going to be urgent; passionate…and hard. Her breath quickened and heart raced at the very thought.

Her fingers went to his crotch; this only intensified his already intense actions and, pushing her back on the bed, he climbed atop her. His hands roamed, cupping, stroking, teasing, igniting her now-blazing wildfire. Finding her bra to be front-closing, he quickly ridded her of the garment he'd come to hate as much as…someone could hate a garment. Her eyes drifted closed as he met her breasts for the first time…

*****


	51. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

Three hours and a whole lotta lovin' later, the exhausted newlyweds lay in each other's arms, drained but completely sated. Anne smiled as she ran fingers over his chest, feeling the soft, if sparse, hair. "Not bad for an old man with a cane." She had nothing more to say as he ran his fingers through her thick hair, marveling in its softness.

House smirked; he was quite proud of himself. "I'm pretty impressed myself."

She sat up and moved her hand to his jaw. "How are you feeling?"

"For the first time in my life, I feel absolutely no pain."

"Are you saying you'll need more lovin' to stay pain free?"

His eyes twinkled and he smoothed a hand across her back, leaving a trail of shivering heat in its wake. "Got any more?"

"Not right now. I need a break. I'm not even sure I can walk."

"I've got a cane you can use." His eyes brightened as he studied her. She was entranced, thinking about how bright and alive his eyes had become over the last few weeks on the road. Every time she saw those gorgeous blues they looked more vibrant and now she realized it was because of her.

A sudden confusion filled his eyes. Anne tilted her head in worry. "Greg? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I think so. Um…brace yourself…I'm about to THANK you. Are you ready?"

Anne grinned but shook her head. "Nope. Wait a moment…let me get into position…" she sat up on her knees in all her naked glory then moved to straddle his midsection, careful to avoid putting pressure on his sensitive stomach. She leaned over, her breasts a tantalizingly close distraction to House. "Ok, now I'm ready."

"You certainly are," he whispered and leaned his head up. Her distraction seemed to work because he suddenly lost both his train of thought AND the PHYSICAL ability to say what he was going to say. That didn't mean she was complaining; he was VERY, VERY good at being distracted.

Finally sitting back up, and still on top of him, she murmured in a voice shaky from the sudden lack of oxygen and the sensations his distraction had caused: "I want to hear what you've got to say."

He laid his head back and watched her face. "Ok…here goes," he cleared his throat. "Thanks for, um…thanks for stopping me."

"It wasn't easy," she murmured, her heart fluttering with emotion at the implications of his apology. She lightly rubbed his chest, loving the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands. "If you hadn't answered that wrong number last night you wouldn't have slept with Annette and I wouldn't have slept with Gregorio."

"You're so much better," he smirked huskily, his finger tenderly tracing a heated line from her chin, down her neck, through the valley between her naked breasts and stopping at her belly button.

"I am, aren't I?" She leaned down and kissed him hungrily. He grinned against her lips and pulled her closer to him. They moaned together as he rolled them over, getting her ready for round…well…both had lost track after 7.

Unfortunately, both were so consumed by each other they failed to hear the jiggling of the door handle…or the clinking of a key being inserted into the lock…

…until the door was kicked open because of the chair House had shoved under the handle. House and Anne tore apart…

…to find Wilson, Cuddy and the children standing in the doorway, horror quickly filling their faces.

Wilson, a huge round red mark on his pale chin and unadulterated anger in his saucer-size brown (now black) eyes, pointed to his best friend and shouted, "HE'S RAPING MY COUSIN!"

Anne shrieked in horror and buried herself further beneath her husband, mortification a word not strong enough to describe the situation. "Can I just die, right here?" she asked against her husband's shoulder.

"No. I need you to help me KILL them," he sneered angrily, covering them both with the hideous, standard-issue green hospital sheet. He turned back to the group who still hadn't moved. "If you value your lives, you WILL leave the room this instant…and that includes you JAMES."

Wilson's eyes, for once that night, filled with something other than anger or confusion; this time it was FRIGHT. House had NEVER called him by his full first name. Needless to say, the children couldn't have run out of that room fast enough, presumably to find the nearest toilet to heave in. This left Cuddy to deal with Wilson.

"Wilson, NOW. They are married…give your cousin the dignity of privacy." Cuddy took his arm. Wilson didn't do anything except allow Cuddy to drag him from the room. He really did realize it was too late…he just couldn't accept what happened. Nobody caught the saddened look Cuddy threw at them as she shut the door; it seemed her unrequited love for House would have to die. From what she could see ("And it certainly was worth the peek," she thought), they were very, very happy. _'Perhaps it better die now, before he dies. He's going to need a friend and colleague, not a grieving lovesick girl.'_

House and Anne both looked back at the door and, seeing it closed, Anne looked at House who was still watching the door. Grabbing his chin, she turned him back to her. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know but I think we need to console each other, don't we?" He grinned, his sudden anger dissolved by the feel of her skin underneath his roving hands. "And what better form of consolation is there than reaching out and touching someone?"

She grinned seductively as his lips traveled the length of her jaw. "I need a lot of consolation. Do you know a good doctor?"

"I do know one that makes HOUSE calls." He wiggled his eyebrows and began moving his lips to her neck as she giggled. "Open up and say "ahhh"."

*****


	52. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

And thus began a routine for the older newlyweds…as much of a routine as House could abide. He wasn't a "plan the day out" kind of guy; he was just happy to make it to the toilet in the morning...actually, that's not right. He was happy to make it INTO the toilet in the morning. Hallway shooting can get messy sometimes…everyone misses at one time or another.

It was a bit awkward at first: she needed to settle into his apartment but she didn't have anything. That called for another road trip, to her house in Vermont, to settle things and have her best friend Barbara housesit until…well, until the end. Meanwhile, House was still more than able to work and she would be bored in a strange city so, after Anne and House returned from Vermont (he insisted on going; he wasn't about to let her out of his bed for longer than a day), Anne approached Cuddy.

KNOCK KNOCK. "Come in."

Cuddy looked up from the insurance billings that were nastily tedious but had to be done, and involuntarily flinched; she hadn't allowed herself to get comfortable around the "love of House's life". Anne timidly walked into the office. "Hi Doctor Cuddy."

'_The poor thing looks scared. Maybe I should be nicer.'_ "Anne? Is everything ok?"

"Um…" Anne wrung her hands nervously which intrigued Cuddy to no end. "I was wondering if you have need for a doctor around here. I've taken an open-ended leave of absence from my hospital in Vermont to be with Greg…" she trailed off and looked at her wringing hands. Suddenly Cuddy felt pity for her: this was her husband, after all, no matter if it was House.

"Well, Doctor Donaldson," Cuddy smiled and shuffled through some folders, pulling Anne's out. Cuddy was a smart woman and she'd anticipated Anne's visit, which was why she got her personnel file from Vermont. "I did anticipate hearing from you. Based on the information I've already obtained from Mercy General in Vermont, we'd be stupid NOT to have you work for us. You're a brilliant pediatric surgeon. We don't have a position as a pediatric surgeon but we do have shifts available in Neonatal. You can be as flexible as you need to be…and when House gets sicker…" both women squirmed and Anne nodded, fully understanding, "…you can be with him." Cuddy paused. "Are you ready for this?"

Anne shrugged. "Is anyone completely ready to watch the person they've come to love more than life itself die?" She eyed the chairs in front of her. "May I?"

Cuddy nodded and waved to them. "Please do."

Anne sat down with a heavy sigh. "Thank you. When John died," her face took on a faraway look as she remembered back to her first tragedy, "I was nearly catatonic. I couldn't function and I wasn't there for him. It's taken 5 years for me to come to terms with that. Now…this is different, for many reasons: I knew Greg was dying when I went into this, before I even fell in love with him; I've loved, and love, Greg more in these few weeks than I loved John the entire 12 years we were married…and I want to get THIS right. I want to be the one person he sees, as he's failing…" Tears streamed down Anne's face as she thought about this inevitability. "…I want to be his comfort in his final hours."

Cuddy, already having cried numerous times over House's impending death, had no tears left; that didn't mean she wasn't grieving herself. Her heart went out for this woman who seemed to constantly be losing everything important in her life…and Cuddy selflessly resolved to make the couple's final days together as easy as SHE could. "Anne," she said and leaned across the desk, "please know that we support you 100%. You've been nothing short of a Godsend to House…which, I will admit, will make my job a whole lot easier." Anne smiled at this. "Is there anything we can do right now?"

Anne nodded and sighed again. "James won't talk to me; we've been back for two weeks and he won't even see Greg. This seems to hurt Greg more than the cancer ever could."

Cuddy nodded and sighed herself. "I know; Wilson refuses to treat House, the patient, which has made the patient cranky. This means House has gone to two oncologists and none of them will see him because of the way he treats them, not that I blame them. We've got to do something."

"And that's something else I came to see you about: I think we need an intervention."

Cuddy sat back in her chair, surprised. "Did you say intervention? Why an intervention? That's generally used for people who have addictions."

"Yep. We need to get James in here, on the presumption you need to talk shop; we'll lock the door and the three of us will have a chat with the Boy Wonder Oncologist."

Cuddy's look of surprise intensified. "I thought that only House called Wilson "Boy Wonder Oncologist". Are you picking up some of House's bad habits?"

Anne grinned but shook her head. "Nope; he's actually regarded as The Boy Wonder at family reunions, only it's "Jimmy is such a Boy Wonder, so smart and handsome…if only he could keep his pants zipped." and "Who's the Boy Wonder dating now?". They're vicious, but only behind his back. When they see him they constantly pinch his dimpled cheeks and say what a fine boy he is. How do you think he got the dimples in the first place?"

Cuddy laughed at this. "An intervention it is then. How should be go about it?"

"Ok, here's the plan…"

*****


	53. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

RING, RING. Dr. Wilson looked up from his latest patient file, a young girl with pancreatic cancer. DR. LISA CUDDY. "Oh crap," he murmured. "What could she want now? And it better not be about Anne and the rapist. I'm not going there."

He picked up the receiver. "This is Dr. Wilson."

"Wilson? It's Cuddy." Her voice sounded far away, is if she were on speakerphone.

"I kinda figured that from the caller ID. What do you want?"

Cuddy flinched at her words. She punched the mute button and looked at Anne. "You're right; he's mad. Are you sure we should do this?"

"Should? Probably not. Do I want to? Absolutely. Dr. Cuddy, he needs to come to terms with this…I'm not just his younger cousin, I'm now his best friend's wife. We've got to do this."

Cuddy nodded and depressed the mute button. "I'm having a meeting with Medicaid today at…" She looked at her clock...10:05 a.m…then at Anne, who indicated 11:30. "…11:30. We need to go over a few of your patient files. Please be here then with your Medicaid files from last year."

Wilson groaned. He hated these meetings but, since Wilson always held Medicaid meetings with Cuddy (given the severity and expense of treating cancer) this was nothing new and he didn't give that a second thought. It was just so last minute. "Fine. 11:30 it is." And he hung up.

"Perfect," Wilson muttered, getting up from his chair to dig out the files he needed. "There goes my day."

*****

At 11:30 Wilson showed up, carrying an armload of patient folders. He was alarmed to only see Cuddy. Setting the folders on the desk, he frowned. "Where's the person from Medicaid?"

"Right here…" House's gruff voice answered from the doorway behind Wilson. Wilson closed his eyes briefly and turned to see both House and Anne standing at the door, each wearing a different look: House was mad; Anne was sad and hurt.

When Wilson saw the hurt look on her face, his steadfast resolve to forever stay mad at her crumbled. After all, he'd never been able to deny her anything…but Wilson also needed to stay focused on being mad. "What do you two want?"

"World peace…a million dollars…" House grumbled then smirked and turned to his wife, who was watching Wilson. "…a vibrating bed?!?!"

"EWWWW!!!" Wilson full-bodied shivered…and after he'd tried so hard to erase the image of his cousin and…that…man…in bed together. Wilson turned back to Cuddy. "Does the RAPIST have to be here?!?"

"I am NOT a rapist!" House growled low and very angrily.

This wasn't turning out well; name calling and accusations weren't going to solve the problem.

Anne realized the intervention approach wasn't going to work so she tried sincerity, finally allowing the things closest to her heart to bubble to the surface. "James," her quiet voice entered the fray, with so much power it physically turned Wilson around to face her. "Please stop this. This is killing me. I know we didn't tell you…and I know it's…GREG…" she said that last portion with emphasis to inform Wilson she knew who she'd married.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" House looked at his wife, a snarky eyebrow raised.

"Shut up honey. You might actually learn something," she winked at him and Wilson rolled his eyes. He did NOT want to see them flirting.

"You're right…you didn't tell me. Why did you spring it on me in front of everyone…and, come to think of it, why did you marry HIM??" Wilson pointed to his best friend.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" House repeated, this time at Wilson.

Wilson shrugged. "She's too good for you."

Now House was fuming…and Cuddy was watching everything with fearful fascination. She'd never seen both men so angry, ESPECIALLY at each other. Cuddy's eyes widened when House's eyes narrowed and he took a step toward his best friend. Whatever he was going to do it wouldn't involve a hug or a handshake.

Anne placed a hand on her husband's arm. "No Greg." He stopped but his eyes were blazing, genuine hurt and anger shooting from each pore. She looked back at her cousin. "What's this really about? It's certainly not just about my choice of husband."

Wilson stared House down, not moving a muscle. "You're my baby cousin; I was there for you when Uncle Dennis and Aunt Selma died, then when John died. You're actually closer than my cousin: you're the sister I never had. I've always watched out for you."

"Just like you've looked after Greg, which was why you sent me to follow him. You've ALWAYS been there when Greg needed you the most, picking up pieces and treating wounds." Wilson nodded then his face dropped, looking away. Anne's eyes widened. "You're not just upset that Greg's dying…you're mad that he's dying on YOUR watch! After all you've done for him, he has to die anyway? You're mad you can't save him so you fight him; but to fight him you have to HURT him, just like he hurts you." Wilson turned away and fell into a nearby chair.

Anne looked at House whose anger had dissolved into wonder. Feeling such an overwhelming urge to encourage House, Anne stepped closer, took his face in her hands, leaned up and comforted him with her kiss. It didn't take long for him to respond but she pulled away before it got too heated. "What was that for?" He whispered, looking at her lips with love.

Anne grinned and whispered just low enough for him to hear: "Because you really are a good man. No matter what is said we deserve to be together. You're also blessed with people that care for you. Greg, James is just as scared about you leaving as I am. Please remember that from now on." She stepped away and turned back to her cousin who'd turned away from the scene. Coming over to his chair, Anne knelt in front of him and placed her head on his knees, looking away from everyone.

"Jimbo? Remember I used to call you that?" Wilson coughed but threaded his fingers through her hair. He was listening. "I was about five and a movie, _Billy Rose's Jumbo_, came on TV. Remember that movie, with Doris Day?"

"Yes."

Anne chuckled. "You were seven and so full of yourself, even then. I got upset because I wanted to play dolls and you said dolls were for girls. You picked up my favorite Betsy-Wetsy and threw her across the room, hitting my poor Springer Spaniel who, ironically, was also named Betsy." He chuckled himself, a bit of relief in that chuckle. "After you almost maimed poor Betsy (both the dog and the doll), you turned on the TV and there was _Jumbo._ Like the adoring 5-year-old I was, I forgave you because I wanted you to think I was cool…and what seemed to be cool in my 5-year-old world was watching _Jumbo_ with you."

"I remember that movie," he said, a smile in his voice as he thought about that movie. "It was about a traveling circus, right?"

"Yes and_ Jumbo_ was the elephant in that movie. Jumbo was larger than life and everyone loved him. It turned out everyone just wanted him but, to a 5-year-old, when people constantly repeat your name and you are the important person, or animal, that's love. And to me, Jimbo, YOU were my Jumbo." Anne looked up and saw the faintest tears in his eyes. "Do you remember what I said?"

He nodded, coughing to clear his choking throat. "You said, 'I'm gonna call you Jumbo, just like that elephant.' I said, 'My name's Jimmy.'"

Anne smiled, tears forming in her eyes as well. "And I said, 'Then I'll call you Jimbo.' And the nickname stuck."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you felt it necessary to offer a toast at each of my marriages." He looked at Cuddy, who was wiping tears from her eyes at the scene that unfolded in front of her. "She referred to me as Jimbo at each toast. It was supposed to be a serious moment but everyone was laughing at me."

Anne chuckled. "Aw, poor Jimbo. It was tough, wasn't it?" Wilson rolled his eyes but his tiny smirk told them he was coming around. Anne turned serious. Still kneeling in front of him, she placed her hands on his knees for balance and gave him a long, beseeching look. "Jimbo, please don't ignore us; please don't stop treating Greg. I know that our marriage has helped him feel better longer…but Greg needs you at this moment, now more than ever. And I'm sorry you found out about our marriage the way you did but we couldn't break the news over the phone. That would be heartless and we care too much about you to do that. Jimbo, I need you." She leaned forward and placed her forehead against her hands, still on James' knees. The next words were muffled but comprehensible: "I'm not going to get through this without you…who would be there when Greg…when he…" Anne's voice caught in a sob. "…when Greg leaves me? You can't leave me too." She began weeping and Wilson's hands came to her head, lifting it up to meet his gaze. "I'll…be…all…alone…" she hiccupped.

Wilson couldn't stand it anymore: standing up, he quickly pulled her into his arms and rocked her, whispering reassurances against her hair. Cuddy began sobbing.

And House? House was watching the entire scene with a strange new emotion: sympathy mixed with anger. Sympathy because these were the two people he cared the most about in the world and they were in agony…and anger because HE caused it. These emotions and thoughts were so new to him he didn't know how to process any of it. His brain actually hurt from the stress of the unknown.

For once, House was actually sorry for making someone mad at him. He wanted to cure himself; to turn back the clock; to reach inside and remove what he was feeling…ANYTHING that could give relief to these two.

And it was at that moment House became truly human: he learned how to feel, specifically for someone else. He was so uncomfortable that he quietly slipped out, wanting to get away from that scene that disturbed him…and the _reasoning_ for that scene, which disturbed him even more than the cancer…he caused them pain. And he couldn't reverse it.

He couldn't reverse the clock back…

six months…

*****


	54. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

After settling the situation in Cuddy's office, Wilson was back to treating House and Anne began working in Neonatal. In fact, Wilson's "flipping out" incident was the best thing for all three of them: the bond between Anne and Wilson was as strong as ever; House and Anne were even closer than before (if that were possible); and House and Wilson? There was an unspoken understanding, one that said more than words ever could.

Wilson was completely amazed at House's transformation; House was more understanding and less verbal, almost as if he were contemplating instead of speaking. This transformation even spilled into House's health.

In fact, when Wilson finally examined House, he was surprised at the progress of the cancer.

"Amazing," Wilson whispered as he wrote in House's chart while House put his shirt back on.

"What?"

"The cancer. The progress has slowed though it's still spreading. It looks like marrying Anne was the best thing for you." Wilson admitted a bit reluctantly.

House, having finished dressing, looked down at his wedding ring. "So what are you saying?"

"You could have a month more. But we'll have an appointment every week; we've got to monitor the progression. Keep in mind that, although you might have more time, it can incapacitate you at any moment. That does mean you can be lazy and play with your yo-yo; video games…"

"Internet porn?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "You better not."

"So, Doc, the appointments each day in the cafeteria, where you buy me lunch and steal your food…" House grabbed his cane and thumped it against the linoleum, a certain spring in those thumps, "…that's not the appointment you mean, right?"

_Same ole' House._ "Not exactly." Wilson looked at his watch. 12:30 p.m. "Wanna grab Anne and meet me for lunch?"

"I'd love to grab Anne…it's only been six hours since we've grabbed each other. Oh so long…" House grinned and Wilson groaned. If felt so good to be on speaking terms again, for both of them…even if one just insults and the other rolls his eyes.

*****

And thus began another routine: the three of them had lunch everyday. And it was at one of these lunches that the duckling situation got interesting…

House grabbed Anne's burger and took a huge chunk out. She shrieked and took it away from him. "What are you doing?!!? The way you're eating people would think I wasn't feeding you."

He grinned and, grabbing a French fry from Wilson's tray, sending it sailing at his wife. "I'm a growing boy. You feed me VERY well." Wilson groaned at the implication and Anne didn't have time to react when a small voice said, "House? I need to speak with you."

They turned around to find Cameron standing there, fidgeting like she was nervous. She eyed the group and that deep-seeded jealousy for the time he spent with others instead of her arose…again. House eyed her. "We're busy. Go away."

"Greg!!" Anne reprimanded her husband, something she did more every day than breathing.

Cameron smiled sadly. "It's ok Anne. I'm used to it." She turned to House who'd gone back to eating his wife's burger. "I really need to talk to you." House looked back and saw she wasn't moving.

He sighed and stood up. "Fine." He turned to the group. "Distract the hall monitor. I'm making a break for it." He grinned and winked at Anne then took off for the exit, his duckling waddling to keep up.

They were completely silent until they reached his office, almost as if all business had to be conducted in that room. House hobbled to his desk and, putting his leg up, looked at his beautiful underling. "So whatcha need little girl?"

"Why did you marry her?"

*****

Because House was…HOUSE…he wasn't easily surprised, especially since it was Cameron. But, at least with Cameron, he usually had some warning of where she was going; she never shot from the dark.

"Ummm…" he paused and looked at her. "…why do you care?" She wasn't prepared to answer that, as much as she knew how House would respond. Her silence told him as much. "You're an idiot to come in here and ask a question like that, then expect to not elaborate. You've known me how long?" House stood up and went to the front of his desk, to stand beside her.

All she said was, "Just once more…let me…" but she didn't continue.

Now he was completely confused and what happened next was something he'd never expected…

Slowly, Cameron lifted fingers to his scruff, tracing the jaw line. Encouraged by his sudden intake of breath, she leaned up and blew along his lips, making them fall apart. This was just enough encouragement: she lifted herself the few centimeters to his lips and urgently kissed him, moving her lips hungrily over his and demanding entrance of her tongue. Not quite sure what was happening (since it had suddenly became the Cameron Twilight Zone), House placed his large hands on her waist and pulled her slightly closer.

"Are you exchanging gum or checking her tonsils?"

The pair broke apart and turned to find Anne leaning against the doorway, her eyebrow lifted, her stance rigid. With a sudden sense of déjà vu (the Greek God from Ohio sprang to both House's and Anne's minds), Anne turned on her heel and walked out.

*****


	55. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

"Why did you do that?" House asked, as calmly as he could. He was angry: not only at Cameron for doing such an idiotic thing but because he kissed back. He knew he shouldn't have done it…he didn't even know WHY he did it…it just happened.

Cameron saw his blazing blues and instantly regretted what she did. She just had to kiss him, one last time. It had been building ever since she learned he was dying…deep down, she was actually hoping to be the one to take care of him. But SHE took that away from her. In some ways, Cameron hated Anne because Cameron was there first…but she hated herself because Anne was wonderful and didn't want to hate her. All in all, Cameron was confused.

House had been watching her and could see the struggle in her eyes. Sighing, he stepped away and began heading to the doorway, prepping for damage control.

"It should've been me…" her quiet voice stopped him at the doorway. He turned and looked at her.

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I'm old and I'm dying; my hearing isn't what it used to be but I think it sounded like 'It should've been me'."

She nodded and took a step closer to him, her courage suddenly bolstered. "It should've been me taking care of you; you've known me longer and I'm completely devoted to you."

House raised his eyebrow. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. We've already discussed this: I'm not an orphaned puppy. You're just upset someone else got me. Not only am I not a puppy but I'm not being picked to play kickball on the school playground; you don't get "first dibs" at me for your team because you're the oldest on the playground. But…" he paused and smirked, tilting his head. "…at least you were finally dealing with your feelings. I mean, I'm not surprised; I meet beautiful but needy girl-children wherever I go. It's sweet, really. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta have hot monkey sex with my wife." He smirked, his head still tilted. "Perhaps I should be thanking you; if you hadn't kissed me I'd have waited until tonight to get lucky." He turned back to leave.

"But you kissed back."

He turned back. "You're cramping my exits. The longer you keep me, the longer I stay pissed at you…and the more you're gonna hate it. And I'm already mad at you." He paused and, seeing she'd never leave him alone, sighed and shrugged. "It was gonna happen anyway…" He lowered his voice then, moving quickly to the office door and looking both ways, House said, "…I'm a high-ranking official with the FBI: the Federal Bureau of Instigators. It's my job to make sure my duckies are creating trouble. I knew you were going to fail the "Insensitivity is My Name, Snarking is My Game" course so I had to plant a secret serum on your lips to help you pass the course. Good luck with that." House was determined to find his wife…and see if he could talk himself out of this one.

"But…." Cameron's word echoed in the empty room.

*****

Ten minutes later, after checking all the usual spots, House couldn't find Anne…and he had grown concerned. Stepping off the elevator at the fourth floor, he hadn't stepped two feet when he heard, "DR. GREGORY HOUSE, PLEASE PICK UP LINE 1. DR. GREGORY HOUSE, PLEASE PICK UP LINE 1." Normally he ignored pages but had a feeling he needed to respond to this one. Hobbling to the nurse's station, he picked up the phone. "House."

"Meet me at your office." CLICK. House hung up and almost ran back to the elevators, eager to find Anne.

Three minutes later, he pushed the door to the semi-darkened and shades-drawn office…

And what he saw made him do a double-take…and his pants tighten at the same time.

Anne was sitting on the desk, legs crossed. She looked…different…somehow: perhaps it was the straight-leg black pants…or the black stilettos with no nylons…or the white ruffled shirt. Or it coulda been the matching black vest, lab coat and long auburn hair straightened in a style similar to…Cameron's.

"Wha…?" House was speechless. He quickly swallowed and looked her up and down. Finding his voice, he pointed to her. "What is this?"

"Isn't this what you like? Maybe if I looked like her you'd kiss me instead." The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

He coughed as he locked all doors leading into that office. Making sure all blinds were closed, he hobbled over to her and, without a word, set his cane down. Pulling her off the desk to stand close to him, he pushed the lab coat off. Unbuttoning the vest, he slipped his hands underneath and moved his powerful instruments up and over her breasts (smiling as her eyes closed and her breath caught) then pushed the vest off. He next worked on the shirt, carefully but urgently slipping the pearl buttons through the buttonholes. In no time the shirt followed the vest to the floor. Anne finally found her voice. "What are you doing?"

"Well Dr. House," he smirked. He really did love hearing those words from his lips to this woman, "I'm showing you what I like." His hands traveled down, stopping at the button of her trousers. Pulling her torso to his, he pressed against her. She moaned softly, unknowingly driving him insane. "I don't want Cameron…" Anne opened her mouth to speak when he pressed his mouth to hers, effectively shutting her up. "Shut…up…" he commanded between nips. Breathing against her lips, he tickled hers with his upper lip. "…tell me what you want."

Her breath caught at his words; her insides tightened with anticipation; and warm sensations coursed through every part of her. She opened her mouth but the metallic clanking of the teeth of her zipper filled the room, followed by the faint THUNK of her trousers to the floor. Stepping out of the pants, she moved to toe off her stilettos but House grunted. "Leave them on." She did look quite fetching in the black satin bra and panty set with the stilettos. House trailed his prickly mouth down her neck to the shiny softness of the bra strap. "Tell me what you want," he repeated.

Her head cleared enough from the delicious haze he was creating to move her hands across his chest, pushing the sport jacket off. It was her turn to quickly remove his clothes, leaving nothing but his boxers (she made him take off his shoes and socks). House was getting desperate; she still hadn't answered his question… "What do you…"

"I don't care; just make me forget what I saw, if only for a moment."

Her words cooled his ardor…until she pulled the elastic of his boxers as she stepped back to his desk. Despite all the sexual experience he had, he'd never actually had sex on his desk before. It just never came up. Feeling bold, Anne sat on the desk and leaned back on her hands, her legs spread wide in front of her and still wearing the stilettos.

He stepped between her legs and caressed the outside of her thighs, lightly tasting her shoulders with his tongue. "I can do that…" he whispered.

*****

"Why did you…"

"She kissed me first." They lay on the desk, his toys and papers scattered every which way. Neither had had sex like that before: it was wild; it was aggressive; it was retaliatory; it was angry…and it ended beautifully, each forgiving the other for whatever misunderstandings (or understandings that weren't quite so pleasant) stood between them. Using his mint-condition Gray's Anatomy textbook for a pillow, his nerve endings burnt where her hair caressed his chest. Bringing a handful to his nose, he smelled the sweet pineapple of her shampoo.

"You kissed back."

He paused. "That I did." He paused again, trying to find the right words. "She imagines herself in love with me. She was upset you got me, said she knew me first and was, therefore, entitled to me. Then she practically attacked me…and I didn't stop her. But I didn't encourage her." He could tell she wasn't going to accept that. "I don't know why I kissed back and I won't lie and say I didn't like it; it was a good kiss." She stiffened at this and he moved his hand to the small of her back, keeping her pinned to him. "We have three years of history between us…and I'm dying. There's nothing more to say."

She'd already forgiven him the moment he pushed the lab coat off her shoulders…but wasn't about to tell him that. "Ok Greg. I believe you."

He sat up in surprise and looked down at the beautiful, amazing woman lying on his desk. "You do?" He was shocked, given her response earlier. She nodded. "Why? How?"

"I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone, including Jimmy." She left it at that. An unexpected feeling made his chest contract: gratitude and appreciation for the beautiful woman spread out beside him. He knew she showed him kindness and mercy…and he decided to make it up to her. Knowing he could use sex, he dismissed that; he was going to do something for his wife he'd never done with another woman…he'd honestly tell her things he'd never spoken about.

House lay back down and gathered her closer to him. With her ear to his heart and her hair spilt all around him, he asked, "How are you doing on the desk?"

She grinned against his chest, moving her hand to his sensitive stomach. He flinched a bit when her hand touched the sore spots. "I'm with you; I couldn't be better." She paused and he continued flinching. "Shh…let me touch you. If it hurts, stop me…" her hand gently rubbed, attempting to soothe his painful abdomen.

House began relaxing as she soothed, lulling him into a nice place… "Anne," he breathed, his voice hitching from the amazing sensations her hand caused as she touched. When she moved her head from his chest and kissed her way down, using her lips on his diseased stomach, he moaned painfully.

"Does this hurt?"

He growled. "You have no idea…" she looked up and saw his agonized look. Smirking, she got off the table and grabbed their clothes. Throwing them on the table beside them, she started getting dressed.

"Greg, you look like you're going to say something important and I don't want to be distracted."

And thus House made up with his wife, knowing full well he'd finally found the woman he secretly desired all his life. It was just a shame he only had…

a few months…

*****


	56. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

Over the course of the next few months, there'd been no significant change in his condition: House still went to his appointments with Wilson every week, usually with Anne. The in-laws (it finally dawned on House that he was now related to his best friend…it seemed weird somehow and he had a bit of trouble grasping the concept.) ate lunch together every day and House's nights were spent making love (as cliché as it sounds, their acts had transcended from sex to a language all their own, yet another way to communicate) and actually doing things he never used to do, like taking walks along a crowded street or taking two hours to people watch or going to a movie without feeling lonely.

Both felt the pressure to live a lifetime in mere months and the urgency to make the most of their time was always looming high.

And he was amazed at how each moment spent with his wife made him feel as if he could do everything and bear anything. Every touch of her hands caressing his scarred leg dulled the pain; every whispered word of love against his skin stitched another wound in his battle-ridden heart; and each look into her brilliant, gleaming eyes was a balm to his dying stomach.

Neither had ever been so open or honest with another human being; for Anne's part, she was almost afraid to share her feelings with John since he didn't seem to care sometimes. House truly listened because she reciprocated and treated him as he'd never been treated before: with respect.

And it was for this reason that Anne was so open when House asked her, "Why did you and John never have children?" They'd just settled down to dinner on the sofa.

An apprehensive look filled her eyes, one that House immediately picked up on. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you don't use birth control and we never use condoms." He eyed her over his pizza which was quickly becoming cold over this serious moment. "What aren't you telling me?"

Anne closed her eyes and grabbed her soda, taking a long drink, hoping it would bolster her through this difficult situation. Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she looked up at her husband, studying his inquisitive blue eyes. "When I was 25," she began quietly and House had to strain to hear what she was saying, "John and I had only been married for six months when I found out I was pregnant. I was excited; John? Not so much." She paused and looked out the nearby window, watching cars pass each other in the street. "But John accepted it. As the healthy pregnancy progressed, my excitement grew and John came around; so much so that, by my eighth month, he was ecstatic. I'd never seen him like that, so happy and excited. We knew we were having a girl and even chosen a name: Elena Joy. He took time to go crib shopping with me, picking out the crib bedding and a beautiful mobile. We were the happiest we'd ever been…" she stopped, unable to continue.

"I sense a 'but' coming." House carefully said.

"Three days after the beginning of my ninth month, John and I were leaving a mid-morning doctor's appointment. I'd taken the last month off for pregnancy leave and John was taking me home, with a short stop at McDonald's for something tasty for my baby girl." Anne chuckled bitterly while House, almost afraid to hear what was next, just sat quietly. "We were halfway home when a monstrously oversized pickup ran a red light and t-boned us at about 65 miles an hour. It hit my side but, thankfully, it was the backend. I had no broken bones but the severity of the crash immediately induced premature labor. She…my baby girl Elana…"

"Stillborn?"

Anne nodded, tears crashing down her cheeks. "All the trauma from the sudden labor and the crash caused too many internal injuries and scarring." She took a deep breath. "I can't have children." She looked up at her husband. "Elena would've been 17 this year." And that's when she lost it, slumping over the end of the sofa. House was always uncomfortable in these weepy women situations. Remembering those cheesy chick flicks Stacy made him watch, he scooted across the sofa and took her in his arms, laying her head against his chest as she wailed. His heart contracted and his ire rose at the pain she felt and, for once, House did the right thing: he just shut up and let her cry. She'd had almost 17 years of "Whys" and "What ifs" that she certainly didn't need to talk about that right now.

*****

Scenes like this became common: one-sided crying or yelling sessions about their pasts, where the emotions were so powerful and so raw their mate could do nothing but listen. It would become so intense the neighbors finally came by one day to see if the couple was ok. Apparently the neighbors were concerned they were going to kill each other. Ascertaining they were, indeed, just fine, the neighbors left, shaking their heads in confusion. House and Anne went right back to what they were doing...which always ended in the cherry, queen-size bed that was rapidly seeing more action than Madonna's during her "Truth or Dare" phase.

Quietly, the clock continued ticking and time was running out for our couple…

*****

In the first week of the sixth month of his diagnosis, House had started losing weight he couldn't afford to lose; his stamina was quickly wilting; and he lost his appetite. Anne noticed immediately. "Greg, you've got to see James today. You obviously aren't feeling good."

House shook his head and picked up his cane, heading for his backpack so he could get ready for work. "I'll be fine."

"No Greg; I mean it. You can't go to work."

"Are you going to nag me forever?"

"Until you do what I say."

He smirked tiredly but he was stubborn and refused to believe her. "Come here," he said, waving his hands to himself. She reluctantly stepped in his arms and hugged him as tight as she thought possible. She could feel how weak he was and almost fell over when he leaned against her.

"No…you're staying here."

House released himself, leaned over and kissed her. "Goodbye honey, I'll see you after work." His best Ward Cleaver was pretty pathetic. But she couldn't stop him, no matter what she did. Deeply concerned, she watched the door close behind him and took a couple steps to the bedroom to finish getting ready to follow him to work when she heard a crash outside the door. Running back to the door, she flung it open to find House on the floor, passed out.

Several neighbors opened their doors, wondering what the problem was. Seeing Mrs. Fitzgerald from across the hall, Anne implored urgently, "Call 9-1-1! We need an ambulance, NOW!" For being an 82-year-old with a walker, that woman could certainly move! And she didn't hesitate as she picked up her cordless and called for an ambulance.

"Greg, baby??!! Can you hear me?" She stood up and ran back inside their apartment, quickly returning with her medical bag. Expertly she checked his vitals, which were weak. Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived.

As they were prepping him for transport, Anne pulled out her cell phone.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"James? Greg's taken a turn; he's not good. We're coming by ambulance and should be there in less than 5 minutes. Please, James…we've got to do something. I'm not ready for him to leave me yet."

"We'll be ready."

*****


	57. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

Once House was stabilized and resting peacefully, Wilson pulled his cousin to a quiet corner of the nearest waiting room.

"Anne, I won't lie to you and I won't sugarcoat the truth. He's in very bad shape: the cancer is advanced well into Stage 4, meaning it's now invading other parts of his body. We've started running tests to determine the full-extent of the advancement. At this point all we can do is make him more comfortable. I wish…"

She interrupted him. "What about the extra time he supposedly has…what happened to that?? You said we'd have more time." Her voice was getting desperate…and Wilson couldn't do anything to make it better. Truth be told, he was just as broken as she was; he just didn't say anything.

Wilson sighed and took his cousin's hand. "He's actually doing better then we could've expected; if it weren't for you he'd have gone down hill a month ago and be dead by now. You've given him life: he's lived more in these past months than he did his entire life. I apologize, from the depths of my soul, for the problems I gave you two. You are the best thing for him."

Anne smiled tearfully and placed her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

"Anne? Wilson?" They turned to find Foreman standing in front of them, sadness in his dark eyes. "He's conscious and he's asking for Anne."

"Thanks. I'm coming." Anne turned back to her rock, her confidante, her oldest friend. "Please don't leave me Jimbo; I can't do this without you."

Wilson's eyes misted but he nodded and they headed for his room.

*****

"Greg, baby? How are ya?" Anne timidly walked into her husband's room to find him lying on the bed (which suddenly seemed way too big for him) in an ugly green gown and monitors beeping at his every move. He turned to look at her and smiled weakly.

"I've been better though that time I woke up next to Rochelle the Roller Derby/Sex Addict Chick from Atlanta makes this look like a cake walk. Now THAT was awkward. Looks like I'm gonna get poked and prodded like a lab rat…" Anne went to his bed and sat beside him, smoothing his hair back and touching his scruffy jaw. His smile weakly widened and he closed his eyes, leaning his head heavily in her hand.

"You know what my father always told me?" Chase asked, standing in the corner with a forlorn Cameron.

House opened his eyes at this one. "That hopping around like a kangaroo is bad for your knees?"

Chase smirked. "After that. He said, "What goes around comes around." You had your fun, poking and playing mad scientist with your patients; it's now your time. You're just getting what you gave. Seems fair to me."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil, for those pearls of wisdom; I'd never understood karma if it weren't for you. Too bad I'm probably coming back as a Gila monster or something."

"I'm thinking cockroach…" Foreman meekly smiled, causing House to roll his eyes.

Wilson chuckled. "Scorpion?"

"Dung beetle!" Cuddy offered from the doorway.

House looked at his wife, his eyebrow raised. "Do you have anything to add?"

She smiled, happy to see him at least momentarily himself. "Not in front of the kiddies."

His eyes lit up, eager to hear what she'd say. "Oh I can't wait to hear this."

"Ok, people, visiting hours are over," Wilson said as he began herding people out the door. "I need to speak with House and Anne in private. Shoo…you can come back later. Judging from your eager faces I can see that I'll see you later, right?" They rolled their eyes and waved goodbye to Anne, who was happy to see them leave; there was too much to do and so little time to do it in.

Once the crowd dispersed, Wilson closed the door and moved a chair next to the bed, settling down with House's patient chart. Anne, still sitting on the bed, looked at House who'd been studying her. "Move over," she commanded.

"Hey, I'M the sickie here…where's the love?" But he complied and she stretched out beside him. Laying her head on his shoulder, he buried his scruffy chin in her hair. Looking at Wilson, House smiled. "Did you hear the one about the horse that walked into the bar and the bartender asked, "Why the long face?"."

Wilson narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What are you talking about? Are you sure the cancer hasn't reached your brain?"

"I've always wondered if you were the horse; after all, you love the fillies; you have a long face…and you're as high maintenance as a horse."

Anne giggled against his chest in an attempt to stifle the noise. Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed. "At least you're still the same House, no matter how you're feeling. We've got to discuss treatment. The only course available for you now is chemotherapy; it won't cure you but will improve your quality of life for these…last…" he was having trouble finishing the statement. Usually he had no problem with this…but, then, it had never been his best friend who was dying either.

"But I don't want to lose my hair."

"Don't worry," Anne said, attempting to lighten the mood of the serious situation. "There's not much to lose; you probably won't even notice."

House playfully narrowed his eyes. "Wow; you people are on a roll. There should be some law against cruelty to dying people."

"There is but there's a "Doctor Gregory House" clause that excludes you." Wilson made notations in the chart.

"Greg," Anne sat up and looked down into his weary eyes, "I'm not going to tell you what to do; this is your body. I want you to be the happiest you can be these final days and if it means without the chemo it's up to you."

House couldn't have loved his wife any more than at that moment; he'd grown tired of Wilson and Cuddy and Cameron and Foreman and Chase and even that blasted lunch lady telling him what was wrong with him. She was letting him make the decision HE wanted. Before he met her, House would've made the decision without anyone but himself in mind.

Now…he actually found himself doing something he would never consider: he thought about her and how his decision would affect her. _**Perhaps the cancer is affecting my brain**__._

_**Nope…you've finally become a normal person. **_

_**There you are! Where have you been? Wait a minute…I'm actually happy to hear from my conscience. Uh-oh…is this how the little folk think?**_

**Mr. Conscience grinned and sighed happily.**_**You better believe it…and I'm so proud of you.**_**He wiped away a tear.**_**My human has grown up.**_

_**Stop that. You sound just like Cameron. What should I do?**_

_**Remember what happened the last time you were dying and you got your way: you've been in constant pain and you lost Stacy. Do you really want to repeat that?**_

Without looking at Anne, House addressed Wilson. "Barkeep, get me a big ole glass of radioactive chemicals with a bourbon chaser."

The look on Anne's face told him he did the right thing.

Wilson smiled, relieved. "Coming right up. Would you like beer nuts while you wait?"

House rolled his eyes. "Jimmy, I know you're in love with me but I don't tilt that way. Perhaps if you'd said something before I married your cousin…" House shrugged. "…but, then again, I'm about to croak and I wouldn't want to miss out on anything…"

It was Wilson's turn to roll his eyes. "You wish." Wilson winked at Anne, who was too elated to comment on what was said and then walked out the door, shaking his head.

Anne looked at her husband. "You're really going to do chemo?" House's expression softened and he nodded. "Why?"

He suddenly smirked mischievously. "Because I'm gonna need stamina…" he wiggled his eyebrows.

*****


	58. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

They began the treatment the next day. If he didn't have any complications, he would be sent home to recuperate there.

The first day went very smoothly so Anne left her husband to return home and prepare their bedroom for his recuperation. Her goal was to make their apartment as "patient friendly" as possible, since she already knew the patient himself wouldn't be friendly. So she went about arranging the TV and TiVO where he could easily access it; gave him plenty of counter space for whatever he wanted. She even had a medical service come in and install equipment.

The day after the first round of chemo, Anne and Wilson settled House in the bed (at which he grumpily complained that two people didn't need to "help the sickie", though he was very weak). Wilson made sure everything was where it was supposed to be, then left. House was still snarling at anyone or anything that would listen when Anne came back from seeing Wilson out. "Well, well, well, Mr. Grumpypants…who put a burr up your butt?"

This only made House grumpier. "Get used to it SWEETHEART," that was not a loving sentiment either…"I'm the world's worst patient and I'm about to make your life a living hell."

Anne smiled. "I know that; that's why I bought these…" she held up a package of earplugs. "…I just don't have to listen." She quickly ripped open the package and stuck a pair in her ears. "Ahh…the sweet sound of silence. It's too bad you can't experience this…" Anne saw his lips move and his face snarl but she couldn't hear him. "This is even better than sex."

That got his attention; quite frankly he was appalled. "BETTER THAN SEX?? BETTER THAN **MY** SEX??" he screamed.

She heard him that time. "Right now? OH YEAH…" And, with that, she walked out of the room, barely dodging the shoe he'd hurled at her retreating form.

*****

And so it went that, every week for the next four weeks, House had a mild chemotherapy treatment that didn't give him the nasty side effects but strong enough to prolong his life a bit longer.

Not only did it prolong his life it intensified his grumpiness and dependency on his wife; poor Anne just couldn't be away from him that long; he always "needed" something.

And this is what led to a huge blow-out three days after the third chemo treatment. She had just gotten out of a late-morning shower and was wrapped in a fluffy blue towel when she heard, "MADAM CARETAKER! I NEED YOU HERE, PRONTO!"

She sighed and closed her eyes. Lately her patience had been wearing thin: not only did he constantly order her about, his general attitude was atrocious. She tried to grant him leniency given his condition but that morning had been a bad one: her period had just started and she felt like the Lakers were shooting fiery free-throws against her abdomen; her head pounded; she'd twisted her ankle as she ran to answer yet another request from "Little Miss Sunshine" (he required turndown service: seems his pillows weren't fluffy enough); and the neighbors were playing their music too loud. AGAIN. To further complicate the situation, "Little Miss Sunshine" felt compelled to uselessly yell at the wall to "Shut the f$k up! Some people are dying over here!" And that was the other thing: at every opportunity, House never failed to remind each and every person he came in contact with that he was dying: "Don't forget the pepper love; I'm dying." "Is that your eyes rolling? Since when do you treat dying people with so little respect?" and "The "Dead Man Walking" wants to watch Spongebob. Is the TiVO set up?"

"JEEVES? WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Why I oughta…" she murmured to herself as she quickly discarded the towel for her favorite bathrobe. Making sure a towel was secure around her head, she marched into the bedroom.

He took her appearance in. "Were have you been? I've been calling for like twenty minutes!"

"I was just rotating my tires…" she paused and rolled her eyes, her ire accelerating to the surface. "What do you want now?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

And that did it. Narrowing her own eyes and marching to his bedside, she pointed to him. "Fck you, you mother fcker!" House's eyes went wide and he leaned back, absolutely and unequivocally amazed she even knew words like that, much less how to use them. Anne was shaking; her rage was so acute she couldn't even see straight: all she saw was the blinding white hotness of anger.

"I've had it up to HERE," pointing to her forehead, "with the constant demands and complaints…but especially with the endless reminders that you're dying." For the first time in three weeks House actually shut his mouth and listened to his wife.

Anne was on a roll; there was no stopping her. With eyes blazing she railed on. "I have done everything in my power to make this a better time for you; I have bent over backwards making sure you had what you've wanted and needed, without a single regard for myself. And what do I get in return? I'm treated like a housemaid at "the big house"." She continued on as she stomped to the closet. "I have put my life on hold for you. You should be grateful; I can't imagine there'd be one other human in this world willing to do that." She momentarily stopped talking to throw clothes around, looking for what she wanted to wear. _'I've got to get out of here; I could kill him before the cancer does.'_

Still rifling through the closet, she continued her muffled tyrant. "I married you because, inexplicably, I fell in love with you. Maybe there was a full-moon; maybe I sniffed too many motorcycle fumes. All I know is," Anne finally found what she wanted and turned back to find House watching her stoically. "I love you and I took the vows "in sickness and in health, til death do us part" very seriously." She didn't give House a chance to respond as she stomped back to the bathroom and slammed the door. Despite how she knew she'd hurt his feelings, she just didn't care: it felt so good to get that out and what was said needed to be said. Hurriedly throwing on the clothes, Anne stepped out of the bathroom and pulled her flip-flops on. She looked up to see House still watching her, a pained expression on his face. Unable to determine whether the pain was emotional or physical, she didn't address it.

Stomping to the telephone beside the bed, she dialed James. "Dr. James Wilson."

"Jimbo, it's Anne. You better get over here this instant."

His urgency was heightened. "Is House ok?"

"He won't be if I don't get out of here this instant. How would you rather he went…" Anne looked down at House who looked slightly frightened. "…by cancer or by the hands of his angry wife?"

Wilson knew this would happen…he was just amazed she'd lasted this long. "I'll be there in 10 minutes."

"I've gotta get out of here. I'll be gone when you get here." CLICK. She looked down at House. Moving to the chest of drawers, she picked up her purse and dug through until she found what she was looking for: her cell phone. Turning back to House, she threw it at him. "I'm not taking my phone so you can't call me." She started to leave.

"Will you be back?"

The choking in the simple question stopped her in her tracks. Looking back, she saw him regard her seriously. "Not for a few hours." With that, she was gone.

*****


	59. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

Five minutes after Anne left, Wilson let himself in with the key Anne had given him. "House?" The apartment was absolutely silent…not even the TV was blaring like it normally was. After searching all over, he went into the bedroom to find House staring straight in front of him, his jaw working in concentration. Wilson took a moment to evaluate how his friend looked and he was actually surprised to see how well House was hanging on; the guy should've been dead a month ago. Judging from the pale, gaunt face and his continued weight loss, Wilson guessed House really didn't have much longer. That's why he needed to be blunt.

And he was.

"You son of a b!tch!"

House finally broke his trance to look at Wilson. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't care. We're talking about it. Right now. Just what do you think you're doing?" House didn't respond, only rolled his eyes and looked away. "I'm not even going to tell you what an amazing woman you have with Anne; she's so much more than you could ever deserve. From what I can see, you're treating her like absolute crap. Why?"

House suddenly looked around the room; finding what he needed on the chest of drawers next to where Anne's purse had been, House pointed to the object. "Jimmy, hand me that package."

Wilson reluctantly stood up and went to the dresser. When he saw what House wanted, Wilson rolled his eyes and turned around, holding up the package. "Earplugs? Subtle…"

House smirked but it left as quickly as it came. "Aren't you going to bring those over?" He paused. "Do you know what she said to me?" He asked Wilson, clearly appalled. "She told to me to "Fck you, you mother fcker!"!"

Wilson's eyes widened and he returned to his chair sans package. "WHAT?!?! You can't be serious…are we talking about the same Anne here? Where'd she pick up language like that??"

"How should I know? You're her big "brother", her "Jimbo"…where were you, anyway? Weren't you watching her?"

"Well, did you deserve it?"

House shrugged. "That's not the point…she still said it."

"Oh don't give me that! You did and you know it. Everything you do you deserve the consequences of. And you REALLY pissed her off there; I've only heard her that angry twice…and it wasn't pretty; a lot of smashed crockery and a couple of broken doors. You have no idea how talented Anne is at breaking doors by slamming them. You'd be quite impressed." He paused and tried another tactic: out of the blue, Wilson asked, "Why did you refuse chemo when you were first diagnosed?"

"Why must our conversations always be about my deep-seeded problems? Why can't we talk about something completely frivolous and useless, like football scores, home improvement tips or who Marissa slept with on "The O.C."? Her girlfriend Alex was hot! That chick that played her kinda reminds me of Cameron. Oh Psychiatrist Jimbo, tell me what that means." House grabbed the TiVO remote, presumably to watch his season pass for "The New Yankee Workshop".

Wilson grabbed the remote and put it out of his reach. "Did you tell yourself you didn't want chemo because you'd lose your hair? Or because you didn't want to go through the whole thing?" House was silently working his jaw and staring straight ahead but his still brilliant eyes were engaged in what he was saying. "But those weren't the real reasons, were they?" Wilson paused.

"House, you wanted to die. And you'd accepted it; it had become only a matter of time, hence the Roller Derby chick; that stupid piano contest over a MARRIED woman, which was low, even by your standards; and that fling with Canada. Then you fell for Anne and you got mad. You felt cheated by Destiny: Destiny finally handed you the royal flush you'd always wanted…but only when you'd run out of chips. And what do you do? This was one game you couldn't beg, borrow or steal chips for; you can't prolong this game; once the chips are up, you're done playing.

So what do you do? House, you must truly believe in societal, group relationships because you have the compelling need to make everyone around you feel your pain. And you're very good at it."

"Feel the love, brother," House snarked.

Wilson studied him. "You're terrified because now you want to live but it's too late. That's why you've been treating Anne like garbage: if you can make her as unhappy as you are, you can punish her for your bum deal."

"So are you saying it's too late to get a tattoo? I've always wanted a wittle bitty teddy bear on my left butt cheek. What do you think?" House moved to show him but Wilson held up his hand.

"No thank you. But now I really hate you House."

House settled back and studied Wilson, genuinely surprised to hear this. After all his grumbling, House did care for Wilson very much. "What did I do now?"

"When Stacy left, I was there to put you back together; when you leave I've gotta put my cousin back together." Wilson shrugged. "It's what I do. But how am I supposed to do that when I'll be broken myself?" He looked away and stood up. "Want some water?"

House, not sure what to say, merely nodded. He had a feeling Wilson would take this badly; he just wasn't prepared for Wilson to admit it. Coughing, House found the remote and cued up the season pass to The O.C.

Wilson returned and House said, "I've got all four seasons of "The O.C.". Got time?"

"Yep…I want to be here when Anne gets back."

House's face fell with the memory of how bad he treated her…but it soon left after the pilot episode began.

*****


	60. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

Three hours later, Anne returned from shopping: she'd never spent so much money on…nothing…as she did that afternoon. Unfortunately for male pocketbooks, females shop to relieve stress. Anne had a lot of stress…enough said.

Lugging her purchases into the apartment, she heard faint noises coming from the bedroom but couldn't ascertain exactly what they were. Curious, she walked into the bedroom to find House asleep, a peaceful look on his face and Wilson's head laying on the back of the chair, drool running down his chin. She smiled tenderly at the two most important men in her life and turned to the TV. Seeing it was "The O.C.", she rolled her eyes as she turned the TV off.

Those three hours had been cathartic: she sorted through thoughts and disregarded those that truly were based on anything but fact. She'd come to the conclusion that House wasn't just being House; he was battling something besides the cancer and that she was his sounding board. She also figured she wasn't going to get a straight answer from House so she'd talk to Wilson when she got the chance. That's not to say she was excusing his behavior; but if she understood it, their short life together would become much easier.

Despite everything that happened just three hours earlier, her love and compassion for Dr. Gregory House moved her feet to stand beside the bed. Leaning over, she lightly brushed fingers across his forehead, moving hair so she could kiss his skin. He stirred and opened his eyes to find her standing over him. Momentarily shocked to find someone there, when the shock settled and it registered that it was his beloved, he smiled wearily. "You're back."

She nodded.

He smirked and lifted his hand to her face. Tracing his fingers along her jawline, he gently directed her to his mouth. Both sighed as their lips moved over each other's. Moving away from her, he smiled first at her lips (which he always did after a particularly amazing kiss) then into her eyes. "Good. We're hungry." Judging from the light in his eyes, he was apologizing for his wrong behavior; it was just too bad he couldn't come out with the words "I'm sorry".

And she knew what to do: pulling out the phone book from the drawer of the nearby nightstand, she handed it and the cordless to House. "I want pepperoni and extra cheese."

He genuinely smiled. They were ok.

*****

Things had changed so that, at the end of the fourth week of chemo, House finally realized he needed to make the most of his short time with Anne. He was more considerate…if only just a bit…of Anne and they had a good amount of quality time together. The week had flown by…and House forgot he was dying.

Well, ALMOST forgot he was dying…

…which really was a good thing, because neither realized how close to the end House really was…

*****

The day before they were to start the fifth week of chemotherapy, Anne woke up around 8:00. Stretching in the bed beside House, she accidentally hit him. "Oh, I'm sorry honey," she grumbled quietly. The snarky greeting what would've met her didn't come. This worried her so she turned around to look at him and saw he wasn't moving. "Greg, honey?" She gently shook him but got no response. The urgency quickly built. "GREG!!??!?!" She shook him harder but nothing.

Working quickly, she placed her head on his chest and listened for a heartbeat. "There it is…" she grabbed her stethoscope and cell phone. Confirming his faint heartbeat, she dialed 9-1-1. "We need an ambulance at 221B Casa del Sol. Now!" she hung up then called Wilson.

"Hello?" a groggy voice answered.

"James? An ambulance is coming for Greg. He's unconscious; he's got a steady but faint heartbeat. Can you meet us at the hospital?"

He was now fully awake. "I'll meet you there."

Anne worked quickly, getting ready and packing a bag for both of them; by the time she was done the ambulance got there and they were quickly transported to PPTH.

Cuddy greeted the ambulance. "This way," she directed them, with Anne following close behind. They stopped outside the ICU. "What happened?"

"He didn't respond when I tried to wake him; he's got a faint heartbeat. That's all I know." Anne moved towards the windows in the doors of the ICU. She forlornly watched them work on her husband then felt hands on her upper arms. Looking behind her, she saw Cuddy with a truly sympathetic look.

"Come on; let's get you to a comfortable room. We won't know anything until he's stabilized and completely examined."

Anne nodded sadly. _Oh God,_ she prayed as she walked with Cuddy, turning back every so often to look at the ICU. _I'm not ready yet…just let me say goodbye. Don't take him yet…_

*****


	61. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

It took awhile to fully revive and stabilize House; he'd had to go on a ventilator because his lungs had collapsed. Before they allowed Anne inside, Wilson pulled her to the corner.

"Anne, he's stable but he's on a ventilator. He can talk for short periods of time without it but I would make that few and far between." Wilson paused. "I know we've had a very similar discussion recently but I feel I must tell you…" Wilson sighed and began pacing, running his hands through his hair. "…House might only have a few days. He's conscious now but the risk of his lapsing into a coma at anytime is our main concern."

Anne felt she knew the answer but asked her question anyway: "And why is that the main concern?"

Wilson smiled slightly. "You know why; it was the same as when John died. If he lapses into a coma we won't be able to bring him back."

"John died within 24 hours of going into a coma," she muttered and leaned heavily against the wall. She knew what this stage meant: she needed to say all that needed to be said now…or it would be too late. For some odd reason, at this very time, it dawned on Anne that she'd never asked Wilson how he was taking all of this; for all she knew he was an even bigger wreck than she was. "Jimbo," Anne began as she moved toward her cousin. Putting her arms around his neck, she placed her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Wilson, who'd been so tense since her phone call, relaxed a bit as he held her close. "Why? You've got nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes I do," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I've been so wrapped up in MY problems, MY feelings that I never once asked you how you are handling everything and that's just not like me." She pulled away and placed her hands on his cheeks, caressing his dimples with her thumbs. "How are you?"

The forlorn look he shot her told her he was struggling himself but it wasn't as bad as she hoped. "I've had seven months to deal with this. His bike trip was good, not only for him but it allowed me to prepare when he wasn't around. I've been psyching myself up so while I'll never be completely ready, I'm doing ok. Now," It was his turn to take her face and he leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. "stop talking and go see that husband of yours. He's going to need your everything…don't forget that."

_How can I? I need HIS everything._

*****

Anne timidly walked into the private ICU room to find him awake eager to see her, as evidenced by the brightening of his brilliant baby blues, when he saw her. Anne smiled as she pulled a chair up as close to his bed as possible. "Hiya big boy." She let her eyes roam his person. "You look terrible. Standard-issue hospital green is SOO not your color." He rolled his eyes but she could see him smiling behind the oxygen mask. She leaned over before sitting down and kissed behind his ear then whispered, "The things you do to get attention; I swear…it borders on pathological." He chuckled, the force of which shook the bed. She moved to sit down but he weakly snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Anne moved back to his ear. "I love you too, Greg."

"I'm sorry to interrupt…" Anne stood up straight and turned to the new voice behind them. It was Dr. Cuddy. "…would you like us to give you more time?" Anne looked behind Cuddy and saw the entire team, sadness like a black cloud hovering over the group.

Anne looked back at House whose gaze moved from her to the group and back again. Anne smiled, shook her head and sat in the chair. "No, that's ok; I'm not leaving his bedside so we'll have plenty of time together."

House rolled his eyes and lifted the mask. "The clingy kind. And are you saying no shower or potty breaks? I'll die from your stench before the cancer wins," he rasped.

"Put that mask back on this instant!" Cuddy snapped, marching to his bedside. Leaning over him, she shot fire from her eyes, which made her chest heave with the effort. And, of course, House being House, didn't let the moment pass: looking down her chest he weakly smirked, pointed and rasped: "Well, now that I'm about to die, can I see them? If I'm really, really good can I hold them?" Cuddy gasped with indignation; Anne coughed to contain her snort; and Foreman covered the little girl Cameron's ears in horror, just like a mother would.

Cuddy huffed and flounced out of the room.

Finally recovering, Anne looked at Greg who had replaced his mask to his mouth. She smirked. "Now, now. Greg, dear, do be a love and follow your boss's instructions. If you want to shoot her death glares and obscene hand gestures that's fine; just do what she says."

House turned to his wife. Narrowing his eyes, he shot her the bird, sending 'round another round of reactions: Wilson gasped; Chase giggled uncontrollably; Foreman moved his hands from Cameron's ears to her eyes while gasping in horror; and Anne's eyebrows lifted.

_Two can play at this game, Greggie-dear._ "Oh, somebody's feelin' frisky today." Her voice became husky with seduction. "As much as I'd love to nail you right now, you've got to save your energy."

"Ok, that's it," Wilson said, a smirk on his face. "As much as we'd love for House to get some, we've got doctorly things to do. So, don't mind us…" He waved to the kids and they began prepping to draw blood, take House's temperature, his blood pressure.

Judging from House's crestfallen face, he wouldn't have minded some private time with her; he just didn't have the strength. Anne gave House a thoughtful look then began laughing, just out of the blue. House looked at her as if she'd been dippin' into his supply of nitrous oxide. Covering her mouth, she contained herself before she asked, "Do you remember that day you found out I was Jimbo's cousin?" House looked at her strangely, wondering where she was going with this. She turned to the younger doctors, whose movements slowed to listen to what she said. "We were in San Diego…well, both of us were in the same city at the same time, we just weren't together then. Anyway," House's eyes widened (he suddenly seemed to remember) and he vigorously shook his head as if to say, _NO! Don't say anything!_ Too late…

"I learned so much about Greg…not only is he good at people medicine…" she looked back at House who'd groaned and covered his eyes with this hand. "…but he could be a vet. According to Mama House, who we just happen to run into at his hotel in San Diego…" Wilson's eyes went wide as he looked up from the machine he was studying… "…when he was seven years old Greg tied his cousin's favorite pet pig to an electric fence, switched on the juice and, while that poor guy was frying, Greg castrated him."

Cameron gasped in horror; the junior boys gaped, openly, at House; Wilson was still amazed they'd met with the older Houses'; and House was shooting her death glares.

"But that wasn't the highlight of the day…the best was yet to come." Anne grinned as House silently dared her to say it, "House wasn't man enough to deal with his parents so he faked stomach pains. After I helped him back to his hotel room and got him settled, I went to deal with the parents and the current woman he was wooing. Talk about a woman in every port; Greg had a woman at every stop. And this woman was absolutely gorgeous: dark hair; dark eyes; dark skin. There's no way I could compete with that."

"Were you trying to compete?" Cameron asked, intrigued. A little thrown not only by the question but by who asked it, Anne looked at her husband. Now he was listening fully, eager to see what she had to say.

_Might as well be honest._ Anne shrugged. "It's tricky because I was supposed to be following him but he'd either do something really stupid that required me to step in, and I've got a great story for you later about that one...or I couldn't stay away. So…yes and no. I knew how foolish it was because I was no match for her. Canada was amazing; if I liked women I'D have gone for her. But that didn't stop me from deliberately sabotaging my engine so I'd have to be around House. I guess I could've been more discrete and watched him from a distance but he's so infuriatingly sexy that, like a bad car accident that happens right in front of you, you really want to look away but you find yourself staring, making yourself late for work because you're entranced." House puffed up bigger than a puffer fish with that statement.

"Ok, so what happened after you dealt with House's parents?" Chase asked, having stopped what he was doing in mid-action; thankfully the needle for the blood draw he was holding hadn't yet been inserted into House. Otherwise Chase could've sucked him dry and not even realized it.

Anne smiled. Every time she thought about what happened when she got back into that room she couldn't help but laugh; in hindsight it was funny; at the time, not so much. "Anyway," Anne cleared her throat and looked at House who was watching her with a bit of a smirk around the edges of the mask. He knew what was coming up and, judging from his happy grin, he was greatly impressed with himself. "I get back to his room and find it completely empty. He couldn't have gone out the door because House's parents, Canada and I were standing just down the hall from it. It was then I noticed missing bed sheets and an open window. I think you might know where I'm going with this."

"You mean House was making a break for it?" Wilson asked, barely able to contain himself. "Umm…" he coughed in an effort to control his laughter. "…how did he get up? Or was he able to make it to the ground?"

"Nope. I started pulling him up…"

House felt the need to pull off his mask then to correct her. "Au contraire Mark Twain," he rasped. "she got the bellhop to help her." He replaced his mask.

And that did it for poor Wilson: he stopped his charting to turn away and let out a hoot of joyous laughter, one she hadn't heard in such a long time.

"And the bellhop made Greg even madder so he threatened to jump; it was only after promising to show him where I kept my IMAGINARY gun did he agree to come up. Of course, it wasn't until he was back up that he learned there was no gun, which made both House and the bellhop upset. Seems I…" she coughed herself, "…was rather suggestive about where I kept it."

House wiggled his eyes in a very, "I know where it's at NOW!" look.

Before Anne could continue, the doctor's pagers went off, signaling an emergency. Quickly finishing their information gathering, they began leaving but not before Cameron stopped at the doorway. Turning to Anne, she genuinely smiled and said, "Thanks for everything."

This surprised Anne tremendously; _how did she help them?_ "For what?"

She looked at House but he was listening to something James was saying so he didn't catch what Cameron was saying. Anne stood up and went to her, a concerned look on her face. "For making House's last days the best they could ever be." She paused and looked at her high-heeled feet. "And I do apologize for how you caught us: I kissed him. It was my fault, completely."

"But you didn't make him kiss you back. Cameron," Anne stepped closer and put a hand on the young woman's shoulder, "I've already forgiven both of you. I think it's good, actually: it will help you move on and it definitely stroked his wounded ego. But thank you for apologizing. It means a lot to me and I know you aren't the type of person to be smug about it, either." Cameron smiled, relieved then, nodding once, she turned on her heel and walked out the room.

Her back was to House as she regarded the youngsters walking away, when she heard a raspy, "You've got a mouth the size of Texas…"

She turned around. He clearly wasn't happy…

_Uh-oh…_

*****


	62. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61**

**Anne tilted her head and gathered her courage. "Ashamed about that pig story?" She walked back to the hospital bed. "You really should be…that was a truly heartless thing to do." He growled at her, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, come on. You're a riot…and you're very cute. You should be happy I didn't mention your attachment to your teddy bear." His eyes softened and lit with relief. With her courage bolstered from the softening in his face, she became bold and sat on the bed at his right side, traced her hand across his chest and his eyes softened a bit more. Placing her hand on the bed between his arm and chest, she leaned forward as his left hand rubbed that arm next to him. She gently removed the breathing mask and nipped lightly at his lips. He gently relented and joined in the soft movement of their perfectly synched lips, dancing in a rhythm that soon became desperate…and his breathing became more labored. Quickly her lips parted from his and she replaced his mask. Anne followed his scruffy (which was fast becoming a beard…something she resolved to take care of) jaw line with her lips, ending once again at his ear. "I wish I had this muzzle sooner; from what I understand, so does the entire hospital."**

**His arms went around her, hugging her to him. Since she could still see he was having trouble breathing, she wasn't about to make him talk but she didn't know how he took what she said. She pulled away from him slowly to see his eyes drooping. He was tired. "Get some sleep, Greg; you need your rest. Just don't be stupid and slip into a coma; do you want me to get mad at you?"**

**He chuckled and shook his head then, framing her face with his large hands, he gently caressed her face with his thumbs. Anne removed his hands and brought them to her lips, kissing them. She slipped off the bed and watched as he instantly fell back against the bed and entered a steady sleep. Picking up her purse, she walked out of ICU and headed toward the public entrance of the ER. Digging through the handbag, she quickly located a card and her cell phone. Dialing the number, she heard a feminine, "Hello?"**

*********

**Four hours later House awoke from his nap to find Anne asleep in the chair, looking peaceful despite her uncomfortable position in that uncomfortable chair. Since he very well couldn't do anything but lie there, he just watched her, remembering the very first time he saw her…**

…_**he noticed another motorcyclist in his rearview mirror. Intrigued, he slowed down so they'd come up alongside. He saw the motorcycle pull up, hold his position, speed up a bit, as if only to give House enough time to check him out...then he laid rubber, leaving House in his dust. Not once did the driver look at him, which bugged him for some reason. But since he really wasn't in the mood to race he let the driver go. **_

_**He did get a good look at the bike and its rider: the license was a Vermont-issue and the bike was a black Honda Shadow Spirit, very shiny, very cool. The driver was dressed from helmet to boots in black and the way he handled it with precision and agility suggested a very experienced driver.**_

_**As the bike became a black speck on the horizon, House had a feeling this wasn't the last time he'd see the Shadow Spirit...or its driver…**_

House had been impressed with her, even then…even before he knew that "he" was a "she". His thoughts continued to drift as he was mesmerized by the way the faint fluorescent hospital light gleamed from her shiny auburn hair as it spilt over her shoulder. He suddenly remembered the day he discovered he was a she…a very gloriously frustrating she as well…

**…_The Black Shadow Rider was back…where did he come from? Was he following me? Of all the places in this country he could be, he had to be RIGHT HERE at the same moment I was._**

**_Sitting up straighter on the bike, he made no effort to hide his gawking. The rider looked at House, gave a salute then took off. This time House wasn't going to let him off the hook. Who'd this turkey think he was anyway? He sped up and stayed on his tail. It became a cat-and-mouse game of the rival Hondas: House would catch up then speed up; Black Shadow Rider would catch up then speed up. It continued like this, with the Black Shadow Rider in the lead, as they reached Birmingham, Alabama, about two hours later._**

**He'd never been so frustrated as he was at that moment…and when he first saw her without her helmet?**

**_Limping back to the bike he saw…the Black Shadow Rider! House moved just outside the Rider's viewing range so House got a good look at the Rider…and he was without his helmet._**

**_House stopped walking and his jaw dropped. "He's a freakin' GIRL!" He growled under his breath as he watched her toss her auburn, mid-back-length hair in the breeze. He was too far away to see her eyes but he saw how translucent her alabaster skin was. Just then she spotted him staring at her…and she saluted again, this time quirking her mouth lazily as if to say, "So I'm a girl…what are you going to do about it?"_**

**"_I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it," he mumbled again then began limping her way. But she had the advantage of his slower movement as she slipped on the helmet and started the bike. She was slowly backing up when he got to her…and saw how exquisitely beautiful she was, perhaps the most uniquely beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Before he could react, she winked and blew him an air kiss!_**

She stirred, groaning from her insanely uncomfortable position in that hospital chair. House focused on her as she turned her eyes to him then smiled tiredly. "There's my big boy, up from his nappy-poo. Would you like some juice or animal crackers?" He narrowed his eyes then removed his mask.

"Oh but MOMMMMM!" he rasped, wailing like a 5 year old. "Greggie want a kissie-poo."

Anne shot him a look that said, "Did you REALLY say kissie-poo?" but she certainly didn't deny him the kiss. She leaned back, her lips still tingling from his scruff. "You look deep in thought…what were you thinking of?"

"You: the first time I saw you on your Black Shadow…" his voice was sounding stronger and his breathing wasn't labored. "…then when I saw you at the motorcycle museum." He smiled weakly and cleared his raspy throat.

"Do you want some water?" He nodded and she poured a glass from the nearby pitcher. When he was finished, she sat back in the chair and smiled up at him. "I remember the first time I saw you on the road with that horrible orange bike."

"Hey, hey, hey…" he rasped, narrowing his eyes.

She smiled. "I must say: I was pretty impressed with what I saw. You make one amazing picture straddling that bike."

"Now you know how I feel every time I see you on your bike; I'm actually jealous of the bike," he leered, his voice getting stronger with each word. Her heart warmed at his desire for her.

"So…it looks like the sickie is up and at 'em…but he's not wearing his mask. Why is that?" Wilson asked, coming around to check House's vitals. Anne moved out of the way to let him do his job but House's eyes never left hers, despite the constant health questions Wilson barraged at him. When the exam was done, Wilson stepped back and smiled a bit. "You're stable and your lungs are improving. You'll probably just need to be on the ventilator for a few more hours."

Anne smiled happily then jumped out of the chair. Moving toward House, she kissed his lips then, still watching House as she addressed Wilson, Anne said, "Then let's get everyone in here. I've got more stories to tell while he's muzzled." His face contorted and he opened his mouth to protest but she snapped the mask back on him. _This is going to be so much fun…_

*****


	63. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

Twenty minutes later, Anne had quite a gathering around House's "private" room: the children, Cuddy, Wilson, a few nurses and a couple of other patients' family members, complete strangers who were waiting in nearby waiting rooms for their loved ones' surgeries to be completed. Anne knew that stories like these needed big audiences. It was the least she could do, to keep them occupied and their mind off the tragedy and sadness all around them; after all, these road stories were the only things that kept HER mind off her own beloved's impending death.

"So, there I was, standing outside this bistro/piano bar…" Anne smiled as she sat in her chair beside House's bed. House groaned (which was muffled behind the mask) and turned his eyes, for the 45th time in last ten minutes, to the clock that hung above the doorway.

4:40 p.m.

It had been quite a half day: House had been rushed to the hospital; put on a ventilator; rested; and was subjected to public offerings of his sordid tales. It was all too much, even for House. _**You know, this has got to be the longest day.**_

_**If they didn't like you, or at least tolerate you, they wouldn't still be around you.**_

_**They don't like me; they just want to see me get my just rewards.**_

_**Ok, you're right about that one. You're just mad because you can't say anything. Remember: silence is golden. Isn't that what those cartoon characters in the movie theaters say before the movie starts?**_

_**Silence is golden, huh? Then why aren't you taking your own advice, before we're too dead to do it?**_

_**But what harm would it do to let her tell her stories? When we croak…oh no…that's right! WE'RE going to die…I'M GONNA DIE! But I'm too YOUNG to die! And let's not forget they'll be no more late-night sessions trying to straighten out your screwed up life. And it's what I live for! Ok, now I'M depressed. Gregory Allen House, let her tell her stories; I need her so I'll stop feeling depressed. I never truly realized how depressing this whole dying thing really is.**_

Anne stopped and looked at her husband. She was surprised to see a grouch that wasn't growling. Actually, shocked was a better word but, plowing on ahead, she started again.

"So, there I was, standing outside this bistro/piano bar after I'd discreetly followed Greg. I didn't go in right away so as not to be seen. Finding a different place to eat I took my time making my appearance. When it was time to check on my babysitting charge," Wilson snickered and House rolled his eyes at this, "I mustered all the courage I had and opened the door, only to immediately be accosted by a beautiful dark-haired woman and a tall handsome man."

"Wait a minute…" one of the complete strangers put a halt to Anne's words. "…this doesn't sound very exciting. What's really going on?"

Anne smiled and looked at House but addressed the crowd. "Ok, the Reader's Digest condensed version is this: Greg saw a beautiful woman, the same one who accosted me at the front door, at a nearby table when he first arrived and he became very interested. She saw him watching her and went over to his table. Come to find out she was married to the owner of the bistro. But does this deter him?"

House removed his mask. "She had a killer body." He put his mask back on, content to never, ever state the real reason he had been attracted to the mystery woman…

_**He was absolutely floored...the woman looked exactly like Stacy.**_

And how could he ever forget the inner turmoil that resulted from this married woman's attention? While it certainly wasn't the first time he'd heard from Mr. Conscience, it was the first major moral disagreement he had with himself…

_**...and caught the gold flash of the wedding band on her left hand. He sighed. He didn't believe in adultery...or so he told himself.**_

_**Oh, but how quickly had he forgotten Atlanta Rochelle.**_

_**But that's different...I didn't know she was married.**_

_**His conscience wouldn't accept this. **__**Doesn't matter. You shouldn't be having one night stands IN THE FIRST PLACE, married or unmarried women alike. Don't believe in adultery? Hogwash! To you sex is sex. Besides, it WAS adultery that night with Stacy.**_

_**No...that was unfinished business,**____**he volleyed back. **__**And excuse me?!? Sex isn't just sex...not all the time. I was remorseful after Atlanta. I didn't want to do that.**_

_**That was not unfinished business. If it was, you wouldn't be ready to sleep with this complete stranger just because she looks like Stacy. And you were NOT remorseful because you felt you did anything wrong with Atlanta Rochelle: you were upset because she used you. Just like YOU use everyone around you. Face it House: you're an addict. And not just pills. Booze, sex...CONTROL. An addict is an addict is an addict. I know you...and you can't lie to your conscience. It doesn't work that way.**___

_**He was infuriated because he wanted to take his conscience outside and beat the crap out of it. **__**Unresolved issues my eye,**____**he thought...then felt a sudden twinge of guilt....a feeling that had been happening more and more lately.**_

_**Perhaps he's right...maybe I am attracted to her because she's so much like Stacy.**___

Even at that time, House had wondered if the cancer had reached his brain. He had been having increasing amounts of guilty thoughts that persisted and jumped in at the oddest of times. What could be the diagnosis for that ailment?

Anne rolled her eyes. "Greg, I wasn't looking at her body. Anyway, he meets her husband, who is playing to an audience on the bistro piano…"

*****

House's mind shifted to that stupid stunt. Of course now, while on his deathbed, he recognized how stupid it was. Why does it take certain people longer than others to learn? As his wife told the tale, his mind went back to that day...

_**Shooting Laura a death glare, who just winked at him back, House turned to the piano. "This is a nice piano," House said, admiring the sleek lines of the polished wood, the long, clean keys of the keyboard.**_

"_**Do you play?" Laura asked. **_

_**House removed his eyes from the instrument and looked at Jack, though addressing Laura. "A little."**_

_**Jack smirked. "Then how about a contest, to see who is the better player."**_

_**Laura frowned and looked at her husband. "Are you sure? Do you know what you're doing?"**_

_**Still watching House, Jack smiled and nodded. "What? Do you doubt my ability? I know what I'm doing. And better still: Mr. House, you can name the terms of the contest…or should I call you Greg?"**_

_**House watched the other man, trying to read him…but Jack was as stoic as a…he couldn't think of any examples. Ok, Jack was as stoic as a man could get. But House was NEVER one to back down from a challenge. He grinned. "Ok. If you win I'll buy drinks for everyone here."**_

_**Jack nodded and everyone within earshot clapped and cheered. The other diners and bistro staff who were out of earshot began whispering, grabbing for information, anxious to know what was happening. "And if you win?"**_

_**House, for the first time since meeting Jack, looked at Laura and smiled. "If I win, I go on a date with Laura."**_

_**THUNK.**__** House's conscience just fainted, shattering the soapbox into hundreds of pieces.**_

"He did WHAT?!??!?!" Wilson screamed when Anne got to this portion of the story. It roused House from his thoughts and he looked at the crowd: all were enthralled but parts of the crowd were morally outraged; one part (mostly the men) was intrigued; and everyone else (namely Cuddy and Wilson) was completely baffled. "So, Anne, what you're saying is that if House lost he would just buy drinks for everyone there…but if he WON he would take a MARRIED woman on a date with the HUSBAND'S knowledge?" Wilson turned to his best friend, who was nervously fidgeting. "House, what were you THINKING???"

"Obviously not with his brain," Anne said. "Aren't you the least bit curious about what she looks like?"

House didn't need Anne to describe what Laura looked like: he had her image in his mind…

_**She wore a short, black, skirt-suit, red knit top and strappy black heels. Tall, around 5'9" with long, flowing, dark, almost black, hair that she flipped as she laughed at something the man said. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled in the track lighting illuminating above her, her red lips vibrant against the straight whiteness of her teeth.**_

_**And her legs...he suddenly felt himself grow uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat as he stared at the sexiest pair of legs he'd ever seen**__**. **__**Long, lean, shapely, smooth...and sans nylons. He smiled...he hated when women wore nylons. Suddenly she uncrossed and recrossed them...and the room instantly grew very hot.**_

_**He then saw the tattoo on her outside right ankle: it was the NY Yankees baseball symbol. His head tilted inquisitively: he'd never seen that before. His eyes slowly skimmed back up the legs to the table...**_

Oh, how she reminded him of Stacy. Pretty soon someone else made the connection as well…

"Oh…my…" Wilson stopped and looked at his friend. "She looked exactly like Stacy, didn't she?"

House's silence pretty much answered Wilson's question. Anne wasn't surprised; she knew how House and Stacy had ended things; and House probably sought to recapture something that made him feel good in his dying days. But now, since he had her, hopefully he wasn't thinking about Stacy. "So, anyway," she began, "they had the contest. The terms were that someone completely unbiased would judge the contest…"

_**I really liked that dude**__,_ House thought, drifting to his own memories and tuning her out. After all, she hadn't there during these times; she was just parroting back the information he had given her.

_**You do now, after you won, but you didn't then.**_

_**Remember: silence is golden. Now shut up. **_

_**"A contest to see who's the best piano player?!? There's absolutely no way to judge that. This isn't a sport; there are no clear cut rules." Laura said, incredulous. "Who's going to be the judge? You? Jack? The audience?"**_

_**"I'll judge," a man seated about three tables away said. He stood up and came over to the piano.**_

_**"Who are you?" House asked and suddenly began to get nervous. He had thought that, by presenting this contest, he could somehow design it so he'd have the upper hand. And now? This was quite a wrench in his plan.**_

"_**Harold Williams. I teach piano at Texas Tech here in Dallas."**_

_**House rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, isn't that convenient? Do you keep piano experts on hand for just such an occasion?" Harold, being the sane, levelheaded, NICE man he was, just let these questions go.**_

By now the entire group was on the edge of their seats (or toes, depending on their attitude in the room: some sat, some stood).

"Anne, we don't want more details; we want to know who won," A nurse said.

Anne smiled and opened her mouth but House whipped off his mask. "Why I did, of course! Was there any doubt?" His voice sounded stronger. They looked at Anne for confirmation and she nodded.

Now Cuddy was confused. Pointing at Anne, Cuddy contorted her face and asked, "Ok, so where do you fit in? You said you met Laura. Who is the tall man…her husband? And why did they greet you at the door?"

"I was just getting to that," Anne took a deep breath. "And here's where the details are important: apparently Laura placed two rules on the contest: that each person played the same three songs, all of the judge's choosing; and that the judge would write the winner's name on a piece of paper and the next person to walk through the bistro door would announce the winner." She paused then looked over at House. He was watching her intently but it was obvious he wasn't mad. If anything, he seemed rather impressed by her storytelling skills. She opened her mouth to continue when he winked at her as if to say, "Really…it's ok." Amazed, she almost couldn't continue but cleared her throat. "And guess who's lucky day it was??"

GASP! "You mean…" Chase was sitting so close to the edge of his chair Anne swore that if someone breathed too heavy he'd fall right over. "…YOU were the next person in the door?"

Anne nodded. "Yep, that was me. It was quite fun, actually: I commanded the attention of everyone in that room. And, from what I understand, there was quite a huge pool going on about who would win; odds on favorite was a tie." She paused and looked at House. Taking a few moments to study him, she asked, "Do you remember what Harold asked you just before you went on your date?"

Almost immediately, House whipped off his mask and raspily said, ""Why don't you go out with Anne instead of Laura? She's single and you obviously like her." I should've. The date with Laura afterwards was a complete bust; her husband showed and ruined it. All that hard work went down the tubes." House coughed a little blood, at which Anne cleaned him up and gave him some water. After swallowing, House whispered, "They made out right in front of me. It was disturbing."

"At that time, did you like Anne?" Cameron asked, intrigued by their stories. It did make her feel better to hear they'd gone through so much and that Anne wasn't just someone he picked up along the ride even though, technically, Anne was Wilson's cousin and House wouldn't have met her that way anyway. Their affections and shared experiences truly knitted their hearts together, despite how gnarled one of the hearts was.

And, of course, House was House so he couldn't be sentimental… "Look at that body; how could I NOT like her?" She opened her mouth to snark back when his face suddenly contorted and he grabbed his stomach. Groaning, he hunched over. Wilson immediately recognized the severity of the actions and began working on him. Anne recognized the medical situation as well and turned to the crowd who were startled by the sudden course of events. "I think we better cut the story time short." Everyone nodded and hurried out, leaving a semi-calm wife to watch her cousin working on her dying husband…

*****


	64. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

Once House was stabilized, he was put on an IV of morphine. Once again, Wilson pulled his cousin into a quiet area. She knew what was coming up so she held up her hand. "Jimbo, I know what you're going to say. Please…I don't want to verbalize his condition: if I verbalize it that means its real…and I can't face that right now. Just tell me what to do next." She paused. "Have you called them?"

He nodded. "They'll be here tomorrow. They weren't happy at all but they are House's parents; they need to be here. I'm surprised we haven't seen them sooner."

Anne nodded. "I know. They found out in San Diego but they've never contacted us. I think they're so prideful and so upset he didn't contact them they are missing out on their only child's last days."

"Well, they won't now. And I must warn you: he doesn't need the ventilator as often now. He's probably gonna ream you up one side and down the other for those stories you've been keeping us entertained with."

Anne sighed. "I figured as much but he hates the ventilator; I can see him being a "bit miffed"." She chuckled then her face fell. "If it makes him happy to make me even more miserable than I already am then fine. Right now all I care is that he's as comfortable as possible. If he has regrets that's not my problem; I didn't marry him to cure him; I didn't marry him to satisfy those regrets…or, more specifically, to be his everything." Anne moved to a nearby bench and sat down with a sigh. "No, I married him purely to satisfy my needs." She held her hands up and began gesturing as she talked. "I told myself I was marrying him to make penance for my failure with Jack; then it changed to my desire to see him everyday. I actually felt ill at the thought of not seeing him everyday. I never consciously thought about it but when he wasn't around, like the time we were in Kansas City and we had our argument at the restaurant, I was nauseous." She face palmed and looked at Wilson. "And it finally evolved to the real reason I was meant to marry him: he makes me feel alive. I had no idea I could feel so much passion. I can't be around him without kissing him. I remember when we were in Kansas City, we were kissing and touching more and I became more eager for his attention, his touch, his very presence. Now I see that's why I married him. If he weren't dying and we met, there's a good chance we wouldn't have married so early in the relationship…but I know I'd still have fallen for him. And now I truly understand everything I missed in my first marriage."

Wilson was digesting things. While it was hard to hear about these things since she was his cousin and House was his best friend, Wilson and Anne had always shared things. So this wasn't overly awkward for him; only she was absolutely right: this was absolutely nothing like the marriage she had with John. As a matter of fact, his cousin positively glowed when House was around…and he'd never met a person House had had that effect on; even Stacy hadn't glowed. Clearing his throat, Wilson said, "You do know he's the wrong guy to fall in love with, right?"

Anne chuckled. "Funny you should mention that: ever since I fell in love with him, I've had a song going through my head: "When The Wrong One Loves You Right". It's like that song was specific to us; some of the lyrics include: _"You're everything I never knew I always wanted"; "How can I walk away when the feeling's so strong, I know you're where I belong"; "But nobody knows you like I do, the only one for me is you"_. That is completely how I feel." She paused and smiled. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have dumped on you, so to speak."

He grabbed her in a hug. "It's cool. Let's go deal with that husband of yours."

*****

Anne thought that when he was on the morphine, he would at least be stabilized. That wasn't the case and that night had been so touch and go that Anne hadn't slept more than 2 hours. She was tired; hungry; messy; and she just wanted House comfortable. By 8:00 the next morning, his morphine had been increased and he was back on the ventilator, at least in short durations, but she'd never left his bedside, keeping her vigil.

For all the horrible physical problems House was having, whenever he was awake, his bright blue eyes never stopped shining; his color always looked ok (given the circumstances)…and those same blue eyes never failed to roll at somebody or something. For example, when breakfast was served at 8:30, House looked down at the bowl of supposed scrambled eggs and what looked to be sausage links, took off his mask, rolled his eyes, weakly made a gagging motion and then whispered, "My old friend Steve McQueen would NEVER eat that." Anne smiled; she knew all about Steve McQueen and how that rat always held a place in House's heart. She stood up and moved to carefully sit on the bed. Leaning over, she smoothed back his hair and began trailing kisses down his face, starting with his forehead, along his jaw line and ending on his lips, where he sighed quietly and weakly danced with her lips. She gently pulled away and bit her lip, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. House genuinely smiled and caressed her cheek, lightly and gently tracing his fingertips over her high cheekbones and the very faintest spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. "Remember what I said about dying of your B.O. before the cancer?" he whispered. She smiled bigger because she knew what was coming. He moved his hand to his nose and fanned it as dramatically as he could. "You might need the crash cart…you're killing me over here."

She rolled her eyes and quietly wiped away the tears that were spilling. Smiling wider, she lifted her arm and smelt her armpit. "Nah…fresh as a daisy."

He smiled that sexy, dark smile she always loved but she moved off the bed. Before anyone could say anything, Wilson's voice could be heard: "Look who's awake!" Anne turned to find him standing in the doorway, holding House's chart. Wilson looked at his cousin. "You look terrible…and you reek, too! Go get cleaned up. We'll be fine. Besides, House has a couple of visitors."

House smirked. "If it's the Doublemint Twins, tell them I need to cancel my weekly massage, as much as I want to see Pamie and Mamie."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Nope it's not them…" Wilson turned and motioned the unknown visitors, still not seen, closer to the room. When House saw them his face fell…and his blood pressure spiked.

Apparently House wasn't too happy about seeing his parents.

*****


	65. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

Once more in about 16 hours, House had to be stabilized. He concentrated on the scene around him: his wife and parents huddled together, watching Wilson and the children finishing their work. Finally he was settled again and Wilson sighed, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair.

"Are you on your own "Sherman's March to the Sea": "House's March to the Grave" by causing death and destruction wherever you go?" Wilson laid his hand on his chest, trying to calm himself down.

"Talk about your new definition of serial killer," Chase offhandedly commented…and it was the icebreaker everyone seemed to need; even House smiled ruefully.

"Well," Anne surveyed the scene. "I've been here all night and I need to get cleaned up." She timidly moved toward her husband and bent over to kiss behind his ear then whispered, "I bet you're faking, as some sort of weird entertainment; who knows what other times you've faked with me."

House removed his ventilator mask and grinned fully, if weakly. "I've never had to fake with you," he wiggled his eyebrows. Anne blushed and moved to suckle his lips, then moved away and grabbed her bag from behind her chair. Backing up, she watched him and his eyes never left hers. Before she got to the door, she turned to John and Blythe, who were watching the entire scene with slight amazement. They'd remembered the young lady from San Diego but their situations were different; now it seems, from the information that was given to them, this young woman was married to their son.

"It's very nice to see you again Mr. and Mrs. House. I will be right back. Please let me know if I can do anything for you." she said timidly. Anne had such a way with making people feel at ease (very similar to her cousin's knack for telling people they were dying) that it seemed to work with the grief-stricken older Houses. They nodded and she nodded in response then, taking one last look around the room, she went to the employee locker room. Quickly undressing, she stepped into the hot shower and just stood there, letting the hot water flush away her tension…

*****

"I think it's time we leave," Wilson looked at everyone else whose last name wasn't House. They agreed reluctantly then walked out, closing the door behind them. Pulling up chairs next to his bed, the older Houses took a moment to study the scene in front of them, watching all the beeping machines and flashing lights on the machines.

"You know, I never understood your fascination with medicine…" John started. He looked at his son whose brow was wrinkled in protest. He held up his hand. "…no; please let me finish." House nodded one short nod then looked into his mother's eyes. He barely managed to hold back the tears that threatened when he saw his own mother's wet eyes. As hard as it was to believe, House could cry, especially when it came to his parents.

John studied his son. No matter how it may seem, John House was incredibly proud of Greg's accomplishments…he just didn't understand him. Whenever John said "Zig", Greg said "Zag"; if Greg said "Go", John said "Stop". And either were of such strong wills that they were forever battling one another.

"Son," John began, looking down at his hands. The one person John House always had the most trouble talking with was the one person he wanted to talk with the most. "I never understood your fascination with medicine; your interest never fell in line with mine. But the older I get, the more I've come to appreciate and understand these types of situations. I don't know where this talent for Medicine came from…" he looked at Blythe who shrugged and shook her head, all the while brushing away her tears. "…but…" John had a hard time finishing what he was saying. _**It's probably that old pride again**_, House thought. _**If Dad would just talk to me, explain why things were the way they were, perhaps I wouldn't hate him so much. But he can't.**_

_**Give him a chance. He's here and we're dying; it's the least the both of us can do.**_

_**Alright, alright…**_

John House cleared his throat. "…but I am proud of you; I've always been proud of you. I just don't understand why you've taken certain paths and done certain things."

If House hadn't been muzzled by the ventilator his mouth would've dropped open. He never, in a million years, expected to hear those words from his father. This situation had been so unfamiliar to House that he didn't know whether to laugh him off with bitterness and unbelief…or accept what he was saying. He really wanted the latter; the former was the easiest and most familiar.

"And the only way I've known how to deal with you has been with discipline, something I now realize (again, it's that old age understanding thing kicking in) was the wrong tactic. I tried to deal with you the same way the military deals with people they can't understand or mold into their image: with corporal punishment." John looked at his wife who was weeping now. "I was very wrong, son. I ask for your forgiveness."

*****


	66. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

Now House himself wondered if the Apocalypse was upon them. Dad was APOLOGIZING???? This was so different from San Diego…what happened?....

"_**He wants to see America before he croaks," another voice piped up behind the group. Everyone turned and saw…**_

_**Anne Donaldson. **_

"_**He's only got 5 months to live."**_

"_**Thank you Dr. Greg House," House narrowed his eyes and glared at the pretty redhead adorned in shorts, t-shirt, Birkenstocks and a haughty smile. "But can I take it from here? And what are you doing here?"**_

_**But that answer never came as Blythe fainted right at her son's feet.  
*******_

_**House rolled his eyes at Anne and bent down to help his mother. "Perfect. Look at what you've done now. I'll be lectured about how impolitic it is to NOT inform your parents of your sacred business."**_

"_**You mean something as sacred and SECRETIVE as dying?" John growled at his son. It was, after all, the only reaction he could muster. John was just as in shock as Blythe had been. He bent down beside his wife. Despite his rough, gruff, tall, BIG appearance (he was a good 2 inches taller than his 6'3" son) he gently took his wife in his arms and cradled her against him.**_

"_**So you had no intention of telling your parents their son was dying?" Canada chose that moment to finally say something. **_

_**House watched his parents and stood up with silent relief as she groaned. She was coming to. "Wha…? What happened? Where am I?" **_

_**John sighed with relief. "Bly? Honey? It's ok. You fainted."**_

_**She looked at her husband with an expression of sheer bewilderment. "Why?"**_

"_**Because," John glanced at his son, "a complete stranger informed us our only son is dying…and he had no intention of telling us himself." **_

_**House's mouth closed as he digested the look his father gave him. It was disappointment; it was anger. The usual. But it was the heartbreak; the sadness; the BETRAYAL that his ONLY SON failed to tell him that, in a short while, he wasn't going to be around. **_

John House was talking but his son tuned him out…

_**You know, Dr. Gregory House, your father had every right to be upset and feel betrayed…and you STILL never called him after you got home, never invited him to come over, never even made an effort to make peace. **_

_**But he never called me; she never called me. What's with that?**_

_**Maybe it was all those years of, "it's my life, just stay out of it…Leave me alone, you don't understand." And they were never given an opportunity to understand because you never let them in enough TO understand. They were mourning the only way they knew how…silently and at a distance. I bet they didn't want to step on your toes or make your life any worse. They were probably respecting your wishes.**_

_***grumble, grumble* Maybe…**_

Greg tuned in to what his father was saying…"I know that you were never going to tell us that you were dying. I have a feeling it would've been the obituary listing that tipped us off, had we not run into you in San Diego. Which reminds me…was that little redhead Jimmy's cousin, the one we met in San Diego?" Greg nodded, his eyes softening when he thought of "the little redhead". "And she kissed you, why?"

Greg looked at his mother but his mother didn't seem surprised…it was like she already knew. Greg removed his mask. "She's my wife. We got married after we left San Diego."

John's expression softened. "Did she know you were dying before you married?" Greg nodded. "And she married you anyway?" Greg nodded again. "Why?"

Greg grinned and flashed his baby blues, the exact same ones he got from the man sitting across from him. "Because I'm witty, charming, smart, handsome and uber sexy."

John chuckled. "You do know that was the reason your mother married me." He looked at his wife who blushed and tried to deny it…but it was there.

Blythe reluctantly spoke up; she didn't want to ruin this moment. It had been a moment that she knew John was looking forward to ever since San Diego. "Greg, honey, we knew about Anne being your wife and how happy you've been with her; from what I understand she's actually extended your life, hasn't she?" Greg nodded, his mind still thinking about that wonderful woman who was his wife. "We've been getting weekly progress reports about you, ever since we found out."

This surprised Greg. He removed his ventilator mask again and, scrunching his face, asked hoarsely, "Who was it? Wilson? Was it Anne…has she been talking to you?"

Both his parents shook their heads. "No. We first called Dr. Cuddy but all she could do was confirm your diagnosis. She said it wasn't her place to go behind your back to "the parents", as she put it. No, it was someone we truly didn't expect: Dr. Eric Foreman."

*****


	67. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66**

Anne finished her shower and got dressed, all the while still hoping things were going ok with House and his parents. She was putting the finishing touches on her hair and makeup (the way she figured it, the woman House saw at his bedside every waking minute should at least be looking her best for him) when Dr. Foreman came into the locker room. Anne smiled at him. It was odd because, while others were rather bristly with Foreman, she understood him: he was just a House Jr. and she knew how to handle him. But what he was about to say was very unHouse-like.

"Hello Dr. Foreman. What's going on? Is Greg alright?"

Foreman nodded and smiled a bit. "His condition hasn't changed; he's not OK but he's not worse. He's still talking with his parents." This warmed Anne's heart: it meant that something good was happening. "But there is something I need to tell you, Anne."

This confused her; what did he need to talk to her about? "What's going on?"

Foreman sighed and sat on the bench in the locker room. "I've been giving House's parents weekly progress reports about his condition."

Now her confusion was compounded ten-fold. "Why did you do that?"

"Do you think it was wrong?" Foreman asked.

She shook her head. "Not at all; in fact, I'm glad someone did. I'd often thought about it myself but whenever I brought up the subject, directly or indirectly, he definitely wasn't thrilled and I wasn't about to go against his wishes. I'm just surprised that it was YOU who did it."

"Why are you surprised?"

Anne smiled. "Because Cameron or Chase would've been more logical choices; Cameron because, well, she's Cameron," Anne and Foreman chuckled together, "and Chase practically sees Greg as a father figure. But you, on the other hand…that was NOT a Dr. Eric Foreman move. Why did you do it?"

He paused and, from the look on his face, couldn't come up with a logical Housian/Foreman response so he simply shrugged and said, "Because it was the right thing to do."

Anne nodded, glad he said that. If he had responded any other way, she'd never have accepted it. But there it was. Moving closer to Foreman, she sat down beside him on the bench and smiled. "Dr. Foreman, I'm going to hug you. Are you ok with this?" Foreman shrugged but she could see how he was fighting a smile. She grabbed him around the neck and cradled him to her. "Thank you. If there was one thing you could've done to save Greg…you just did it."

*****

Five minutes later, Anne and Foreman left the locker room, each taking separate directions because he had some work he wanted to catch up on. On the way back to House's room, Anne saw two very familiar figures standing in the lobby. The people looked lost but Anne was so glad to see them. Striding to them, she stood in front of them.

"Oh, you made it! I'm so glad…and Greg will be happy to see you."

Laura Bower smiled. "Thank you for calling us. I know it was awkward, the way we met and the circumstances but…" she looked up at her husband Jack, who was smiling at her with such love Anne's heart smiled for them. "…but now we know how important Dr. House is to us and we needed to come and see him, before it was too late."

Anne smiled sadly. She knew that "too late" was coming very soon…but how does one really prepare? They may never be completely prepared. "Well, come on with me." They slowly began walking to the elevators. "I've kept quite a few people entertained with the story of our meeting. They'll be thrilled to meet you."

Laura smiled. "I know; the girls at the bank got a huge kick out of that story. And I'm so happy to hear you two got married; I'd seen something there, from the beginning. I'd hoped you'd finally be together. I would've hoped it had been under better circumstances."

Anne nodded sadly then they stepped onto the elevator. After she pushed the correct floor number, she looked at them with a heavy heart. "But the few months we've had together has meant more to me than my first marriage ever did. I've felt more love, more passion, more…LIFE…with Greg than the years I had with John."

"What happened with your first husband?" Jack asked quietly.

"He died, ironically of stomach cancer. I guess I have a knack for being with guys who eventually die from that disease. Rather ironic, really," she spat out bitterly. The doors quickly opened and she led them to the room.

House's room was filled with people: his parents, Wilson, Chase, Cameron, Cuddy and even a few nurses. Whatever people were talking about, it was entertaining because everyone was laughing and talking at the same time. House even looked happy to be in the middle of it…and he was the first to see Anne when she got there. He smiled behind the ventilator, his eyes shining like they always did when he saw her…then he saw Laura and his eyes widened…and when he saw Jack? His forehead scrunched and he removed his ventilator mask. "Baby," he rasped, turning to Anne who'd moved to his bedside but still pointed at the new visitors, "why are they here?"

"Because I think you need to see people who actually care about you before you leave…" she said, moving her hand to stroke his forehead and cheek. "I called them yesterday and they were more than happy to drop everything to come see you. It seems you've become quite important in their lives. Besides," she looked at everyone else who'd stopped talking and was watching the scene unfolding in front of them, "everyone will want to meet them. Everyone, this is Jack and Laura Bower from Dallas, Texas."

At first everyone looked at her, wondering if they were supposed to know them; it was Wilson who first caught on. His eyes widened and he pointed to Laura, who was taking the scene in with apprehension. "The piano lady?!?! She looks EXACTLY like Stacy!" And this caused bedlam to break out in the room…

"The married lady House wanted to date?" "She DOES look like Stacy!" "Wow…he's cute!" Everyone stopped at that last one. It was Cuddy who suddenly looked uncomfortable. Jack smirked but surveyed the scene.

"We just came to see you and to tell you…" Laura looked back at her husband. She took his hand and smiled then turned back to House who still looked mystified. "…that something good came out of your egomaniacal stunt: we've become closer than we've ever been; our marriage is stronger than ever; and…" she looked back at her husband who smiled and nodded, then she turned back to House. "…we're pregnant. We didn't plan on it but it couldn't NOT happen, what with all the many times we've…"

House raised a hand to stop her; he didn't want to know the details. He removed his ventilator and whispered, "Laura, come here." She nodded and moved closer. "Lean down," he whispered and she did as he bid. "Are you good on top? I can't maneuver like I used to but we could get rid of everyone and you and me could get better acquainted, since our last date got interrupted and all."

She stood up and smiled. If he'd said that when they first met, she'd been appalled; now? She understood him and Dr. Greg House was being just that: Dr. Greg House. She shook her head and whispered, "I was never good on top; I have poor balance. I'd just slide right off." She winked and kissed his mouth gently. "I'm glad I came."

"Me too."

Laura stood up and, wiping tears from her eyes, moved away to stand with Anne and House's parents.

House spoke up. "Ok, we've got the people, now we need the food. What kind of party is this without eats. Go and bring me food, bro!" He pointed to Wilson who shook his head. Wilson was quite astonished by the sudden turn of events. "I'll see what I can do."

*****


	68. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

It had been an amazing visit, for both the Houses and the Bowers. Greg even made peace with Jack, who was just so happy to have his wife that he would've done whatever needed be to make her happy with him. The Bowers left later that day, after a nice lunch and a good fellowship time with everyone.

As Anne walked them to the lobby, she smiled and asked Laura, "What did he say to you, when you first came in?"

Laura giggled and looked at her husband, who didn't know but had a fairly good idea it had something to do with sex. "He asked if I was good on top. He said he couldn't maneuver like he used to but, since our date was cut short we could get rid of everyone."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Don't worry…he propositions all the nurses that come in to give him his sponge bath."

"Oh, I know him. If he'd said what he said back in Dallas it would've been different. Now I know how to handle him so it's cool. I wouldn't have expected anything less."

They smiled at each other then hugged goodbye. Before pulling away, Laura whispered, "After he passes, come to Dallas and stay with us for awhile. You said you had no family, other than Dr. Wilson, and you need to get away from here. You need to be with friends."

Anne squeezed her harder then nodded. "Ok. Have a safe trip home and call me when you get in, ok?"

Laura nodded and, after all the goodbyes were said, Laura and Jack walked out. Anne had a feeling she'd been seeing her very, very soon.

*****

A few hours later, it was around 11:00 at night and House was sleeping, his wife sleeping in the chair beside him, holding his hand. They were the only two in the room, after Anne specifically asked House's parents to go and get some rest. It had been a long day for them and they needed their rest. Secretly, she was selfish: she wanted these quiet, restful moments with him alone. She didn't want to share him.

Suddenly the heart monitor began going crazy. This woke his wife and she quickly alerted the nurse's station who, in turn, alerted Wilson. Wilson had taken to sleeping in his office these last few days; he wanted to be around in case…in case of situations like this one.

Wilson arrived in amazingly quick time and began working on him, attempting to get him steady. He removed the ventilator, just in case House needed to talk to them. But all the work wasn't helping and House's vitals were plummeting toward unconsciousness.

"HE'S FAILING!!!" Wilson screamed…but to House, Wilson's voice was getting farther and farther away.

"Anne?" House faintly asked.

She jumped up and moved to his bedside, which she'd vacated when they began working on him. With tears streaming down her face, she placed her head right beside his and held his hand to her mouth, feathering tiny kisses along his long fingers. "Baby, I'm here…"

"I think I'm slipping away…" he was down to a whisper, just barely audible through the crazy loudness of the room. "Why didn't we get more time?" He coughed and she wiped the coughed blood from his chin. "Why weren't you around 20 years ago? I wouldn't be dying right now." He coughed again, this spasm particularly violent. When he'd settled, his tired eyes implored hers for an answer no one seemed to have.

"COME ON, PEOPLE! HIS HEARTRATE IS DROPPING!"

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Wilson, Cuddy, the kids, like I wanted…" he trailed off, coughing some more.

"I'm sure they know."

He weakly shook his head. "I kept telling myself there'd be more time but everything's happened so fast." He paused and turned his pained eyes to hers. "And I haven't said goodbye to you…" She shook her head, tears crashing down her face. She didn't want to hear it…she just wanted to hear three little words before he died.

"Just tell me you love me Greg. That's all I want to hear, that you love me…"

He smiled and, with barely enough strength to squeeze the hand she was holding, whispered, "I love you Anne, more than I've ever loved anyone." He paused, then his last words were, "We'll always have Vegas…" then he slipped towards unconsciousness.

The last things House remembered were a dense fog overtaking him…the intense pain everywhere…his heart rate slowing…Anne's gentle voice tearfully repeating his name, pleading for him to come back to her…the beeping of the heart machine as it drastically slowed…then flat lined…

*****

Don't forget to catch the Epilogue, posted right after this chapter…

Again, thank you SOO MUCH for reading. Your guidance and support has truly been amazing and I feel honored I could share this story with you.


	69. Epilogue

Ok, here is the epilogue. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!

**EPILOGUE**

"House…" A gentle female voice repeated. "House? House?"

Suddenly the voice became clearer. House felt his body being shook. '_And what's with the shaking? Is it an earthquake?'_ House thought, the fog that had enveloped him lifting. _'Am I going to hell…or heaven? Maybe there IS life after death. I'm so screwed…'_ House began to panic, wondering in which direction he was going…

then the shaking intensified…the fog gradually lightened…

he heard voices…

And when the fog finally dissipated, he found himself lying on a clinic examination bed with drool on his chin and Chase, Cameron, Foreman and Wilson surrounding him, eyeing him strangely.

House looked around again, rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Is this Heaven?"

"Noooo…" Wilson wrinkled his forehead in a very 'How much Vicodin did you take?' expression. "It's Jersey."

He still eyed them when he noticed his stomach didn't hurt. At all. And he wasn't hooked to any machines. _And where is my wife?_ "Anne?" He turned around completely but, not seeing anyone but his work colleagues, he gave Wilson a completely blank look. "Wilson? Am I dying?"

"Nooo…" Wilson repeated once again. "Are you ok? And who's Anne?"

House rolled his eyes. "Don't be coy with me: you know, Anne, your cousin and my wife."

"House, you aren't dying; I don't have a cousin Anne; and you don't have a wife."

Cameron interrupted. "How much Vicodin have you been taking?" Concern spread over her face. "House, you've been dreaming."

Sincere shock fluttered across his face that quickly evaporated, being replaced by a smirk. "But it wasn't a dream. It was real. And you" he pointed to Cameron…"and you"…Chase…"and you"…Foreman…"...and YOU"…Wilson…"were there." He smirked even wider. "But you couldn't have been, could you?"

This elicited groans. "Of course not, Dorothy; you're still in Kansas. You were actually hit in the head by a flying monkey and fell into a nice, deep sleep." Chase rolled his eyes as House scowled.

"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be working?" The children looked at each other dumbly. "Shoo! Go! Make Daddy proud!" They scampered out, leaving Wilson with House. He handed House a patient folder.

"You do have a patient: Vincent in Exam Room 2. He's got a swollen tongue and a temperature of 103°. Go see him."

House raised his eyebrow at his friend's orders then looked at Wilson's chest. "Since when have you grown Cuddy-bags?" House opened the file and read the chart. Tilting his head, he grinned with glee. "Interesting but oh so much fun. I'm gonna make him answer all types of questions, like: _What's your favorite color?_ I bet he says "bwue". Awesome."

Wilson rolled his eyes, glad to see House awake and his snarky self but still wondering why House was dreaming about having a wife…more specifically, why the wife wasn't named Stacy and why this wife was his cousin.

Wilson headed out the examination room door but House stopped him. Judging from the look on House's face, he was about to say something very serious so Wilson stopped to find out. "What is it? Is it the dream?"

House nodded. "Jimmy, I gotta tell you about this dream I had." And House gave Wilson a summarized version of everything in his dream. When he was done Wilson's face bore a "HUH?" expression. "House, are you sure you're ok? Have you been shot in the head? Or kicked by a mule?"

House rolled his eyes. "Of course not. But what do you think it could mean?"

"How should I know? Do I look like a shrink?" Wilson stopped talking and thought for a moment. "But word on the street is there's a new hospital psychiatrist starting soon; seems that no matter how many you drive away more just keep showing up."

"Yeah, like maggots to dead bodies." House sighed. "What do I do?"

"Well, Dr. House," Wilson began in a very scholarly fashion. "Perhaps your subconscious is telling you to take a road trip. Maybe it's telling you to lay off the Vicodin or to make peace with your parents." Wilson pushed House to the door. "Or perhaps it's telling you to go see your patient."

House rolled his eyes as they both stepped out the door. "Wilson, are you sure you don't want to watch me interrogate him? It should be a gasser." Wilson shook his head and started to walk away when he felt House tug on his coat, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

Wilson turned to see what House wanted…and saw a look he'd never seen on House before: horrifyingly stunned confusion…with perhaps a bit of déjà vu thrown in there. "That's not possible…"

"What's not possible? House? You look like you've just seen Angelina Jolie in person."

House didn't do anything except point his cane across the clinic lobby…

Standing just inside the clinic door, leaning her well-endowed frame against it while talking with Cuddy…

was HER.

It was Anne.

Blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes, almost as if that would be the difference between the image being real or being an apparition. House studied her…

The woman had the same thick, luscious auburn hair that shone in the faint fluorescent lighting; the same creamy, curvy skin that his dream hands had followed. _Why's it suddenly so hot in here? _House asked himself_._ But the one thing that struck him the most was what she was wearing. She was wearing…IT…that short little white cotton sundress, the same one his…dream…him…fantasized about. And the real "Anne" was just as good as the dream "Anne". He studied her breasts and his hands tingled with the desire to tease them into submission.

Too bad the dress wasn't wet. He didn't know what was going on or what this all meant; but his next cognizant thought was: _'Dear Lord, I don't ask for, well, anything, but…please set off the sprinklers. I even said please.'_

Nothing happened.

'_Thanks.'_

Wilson passed a concerned look between House and the woman; House was staring at her, almost as if he knew her. "House? Are you ok?"

House leaned toward Wilson, grabbed his coat lapel and pointed to the woman he'd never lost sight of. "Do you see that?" Unfortunately, House wasn't subtle; House was NEVER subtle.

Wilson looked around for a "that" instead of a "her" or "him" or "them". "What are we looking for?"

House continued pointing to the woman who, by now, had seen the commotion and was looking at House as if he were nuts. "Her!! That chick talking with Cuddy!"

Wilson nodded as he watched both Cuddy and the beautiful auburn woman watching them. "Yes House…haven't you ever seen a beautiful woman before??"

"Wilson, I've never seen that woman before but, I swear, she was Anne, in my dream. But that's not possible; I can't dream about someone I've never met before." He was still watching her as both women made her way across the room, coming to a stop in front of the boys.

"Dr. House?" Cuddy asked in a very formal tone. After all, she did have a guest with her. House wasn't paying attention; he was still staring at the woman. "House?" Nothing…and this was making the woman squirm. "HOUSE!!!!" Cuddy screamed. This caught everyone's attention. House finally looked at Cuddy.

"You rang, milady?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Ok, that's it: no more shiny objects for you."

The woman turned away to cough behind her hand in an attempt to cover her laughter. House immediately pounced on this. "Did you find that funny?"

The woman finally cleared her throat and turned fully to him. "Yes I did." House's eyes widened: it was the same voice! _'Have my dreams finally come true, after all that wishing on stars??'_ Normally that would've been a sarcastic thought but the day was rapidly shaping up to become really, really weird…he was ready to believe just about anything.

"Dr. Gregory House, Dr. James Wilson," Cuddy pointed to each man, "This is Dr. Amy Daniels. She's the new hospital psychiatrist. She starts tomorrow."

House grinned but that grinned dropped when Wilson smiled his dimply smile. Wilson extended his hand. "A pleasure. Don't mind my friend: we don't let him out of the sleep lab very often so, seeing a beautiful woman like you, he goes all primitive." He turned to House, who was still staring. "Say hello House."

"Hello House," House immediately parroted back, still staring at her, now with an inquisitively searching look. "What do you drive?"

Dr. Daniels didn't quite know where this was going but was honest anyway. "An Acura."

House silently sighed with relief. _Ok, _he thought, giving her body another once over, thoroughly enjoying what he saw. He was still baffled that she seemed to have stepped right from his dream and into this clinic today. _That's not so bad. How much fun are chicks that drive Acuras anyway? Wait a minute…they could be lots of fun. Uh-oh…_

But the woman wasn't finished talking. "…but I ride a Harley over the weekend. I love motorcycles."

House's heart beat a bit faster; his breath came out a bit quicker. _'Ok, NOW I'm screwed.'_

Covering his sudden state of, well, PANIC, House grinned. "You know, Doc, I just had this dream I need to talk to someone about. Can you help?"

Dr. Daniels grinned and pondered the man in front of her. Dr. Cuddy had warned her about him but what she said didn't match the man standing right there. _'She said he would be the boil on the butt of society. Why does he suddenly want therapy? Intriguing.'_ "Sure. I'd love to know what's rattling around in that head of yours." With a little wink she turned on her heel and followed Cuddy out of the clinic. House took a moment to study her walkaway…just as he remembered. _'But how is that even possible?'_

"House! Vincent? Exam Room 2? Go see him." Wilson smirked and followed them out the clinic.

"Thanks Mom!" he shouted. Turning toward Exam Room 2, he couldn't get his mind off her. _**What happened back there? What's going on??**_

_**Well, hello there!**_ Mr. Subconscious chose an interesting time to appear. _**Now isn't THIS quite the pickle you've got yourself into?**_

_**You and me are gonna have WORDS, right here, right now…**_

_**Oh, I'm SOO scared! What are you gonna do to me?**_

_**Forget the threats; we REALLY need to talk. NOW...**_

_**Go see your patient. We'll talk later…**_

"Go see your patient…Vincent…Exam Room 2…" House mocked all the voices in his head like a 3rd grader mocks a nerdy teacher, as he went to open the door. But all he saw was HER face.

When he first saw Dr. Daniels he had a feeling his life would change…but it wasn't until he saw Vincent The Tongue that this feeling changed to something more ominous. He couldn't quite place it but he knew his life was now to be changed forever.

And forever was certainly longer than…

Six months.

**THE END**


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